


Fight or Flight

by BlackWingBecci



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Immortality, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWingBecci/pseuds/BlackWingBecci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas wakes up knowing nothing but his name. He finds refuge with a group of boys who seem too kind and too caring, helping him even though they have no idea who Thomas is - although he doesn't know that either. He makes do, but he is plagued by the ghosts of memories he can't quite grab a hold of, by the ghost of a girl important to him that he can't quite remember enough. And then she appears and Thomas remembers everything - especially what it was the two of them were running from. WICKED is coming after them, WICKED has been chasing them for centuries, and Thomas and Teresa now must decide whether to run again or stay and fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Currently just the first part of my fic for the Newmas big bang. The rest will be posted in a few weeks.
> 
> The wonderful art was done by artisticallyreadyandenthused.

                                                          

He awoke suddenly in the cold and the wet. Surrounded by darkness.

He was laying on the ground staring up at the night sky with rain pouring down on him. Pain flooded his body from head to toe. He had no idea what had happened, where he was, who he was, but he recognised the sensations he was feeling. He recognised the feel of the hard ground underneath him, the loose gravel biting at the bare skin of his arms. He recognised the tight grip the pain had on his insides and the shivers that ran through his body from the cold rain and the chill in the air. But he couldn’t remember where he recognised them from, when he had experiences them before.

His head was heavy and his thoughts were foggy. It took effort to focus on anything more than the sensations he was experiencing. Trying to remember anything tore at his brain and left him reeling and breathless. He wanted to get up, he wanted to move, he wanted to run, but he couldn’t will his body to do anything more but lay on that ground, his hands clenching into fists in frustration.

And then a face appeared above him. It was a young kid, with curly brown hair and chubby cheeks and an earnest expression. “Hey, are you alright?” The kid asked, voice high and rushed, face full of worry. He tried to answer, but all that came out was a groan. The kid’s eyes grew even wider. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry. I’ll get help.”

He laid uselessly as the kid’s face disappeared and he heard hurried steps moving away from him, splashing in the puddles the rain was leaving on the hard ground. He swallowed thickly and clenched his fists so tight that his nails broke the skin of his palm. He refused to just lay there. The fog in his head lessened with the sharp, biting pain from his nails and the worried expression on the kids face made his thoughts sharper. He didn’t want help. He didn’t want to be helpless.

He ignored the aching deep in his bones and weariness and cold his entire body was shaking from and he forced his limbs to move. He pulled his leg up and moved his arm so he could push himself over onto his side, the hard gravel biting into every inch of skin it met. On his side he had to take a second to breathe. He could see more of where he was now. In front of his was a tall brick wall and a couple of bins pushed up against it, overflowing with rubbish bags and cardboard boxes. He was probably in an alley then – although how he knew that since he couldn’t seem to remember anything escaped him.

He pressed his cheek against the cool, wet, hard ground and groaned as he shifted his arms and somehow actually managed to push himself up into a sitting position. His vision darkened and bright spots danced across the shadows, his head spinning from the movement. He felt his body sway and he was sure he was going to fall straight back down onto the ground again. So he forced his elbows to lock to keep himself up and breathed heavily until his vision returned and he could think easier again.

Sat up, he could see even more of his surroundings. The alley he was in was long, maybe behind a row of shops or businesses, and full of more bins overflowing with rubbish. The smell from the rubbish was rank and it filled the air of the alley, the brick walls too high for it to escape into the night sky. It didn’t bother him much though.

He heard footsteps and voices and splashing and seconds later figures appeared at one end of the alley. He knew it was taking all the energy he had to keep himself sitting so there was no way he could stand to meet them. But the fact that he wasn’t lying helplessly on the ground did make him feel more settled. The kid with the chubby face was at the front of the group. The rest of the figures with him kept a distance and peered at him with worried expressions while the kid fell to his knees in front of him and gave him a once over before looking back to the people he brought with him.

“What do we do?” The kid asked, his high voice still filled with worry but less panicked than it had been before. He knew sitting up had probably accomplished that.

“It’s okay Chuck.” One of the figures said in an obviously British accent which he didn’t understand how he could recognise and crouched down beside the kid. He looked over the person and has to swallow down a gasp that threatened to escape his lips. They seemed like a breath of fresh air in the dark and disgusting alley, with their long blond hair tied in a loose plait with ribbons and their cream sweater hanging off one shoulder to reveal clear white skin and soft pink lipstick that drew his attention to their mouth. A mouth that pulled up gently and he felt instantly a little better upon seeing that smile. He couldn’t determine what gender the person was, and his brain was too foggy to put in the effort to try work it out. So he decided to stick with neutral pronouns for now. “Hi. I’m Newt. What’s your name?”

They spoke carefully, but not condescendingly, and he was grateful because he could still feel the pricks of frustration at not being able to move or think or remember much at all. If they had spoken condescendingly, he probably would have snapped, and he didn’t want to do anything to make them stop smiling at him like that. “I don’t remember.” He answered and his throat burned and ached but the words came out. They were weak and barely more than a whisper, but it was much better than the groan he had managed before.

“That’s okay. You got yourself a pretty nasty head wound there, memory loss isn’t unusual.” Newt told him, and the other three figures stood behind them whispered to each other. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he was sure it was about him and he felt himself getting more frustrated and annoyed at that. He sighed harshly and shifted on his arms, feeling the urge to push himself up and make them aware that he was right there, but he had no energy to do it. “Do you know where you are? Or what happened to you?”

He turned his attention back to Newt and the kid - Chuck - in front of him. The kid’s face was filled with even more worry, his cheeks more puffed out than usual, and the person’s lips were beginning to turn down with concern. “I-No, I don’t remember.” He answered, his frustration clear in the harsh tone of his words. His head was starting to get foggy again and his arms were shaking with the effort to hold up his weight in their weakened state. The cold and ache still sat in his bones.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you to a hospital.” Newt said. His arm acted from instinct and shot to grab their wrist, gripping tight and no doubt smearing blood across their pale skin.

“No hospital.” He barked out, body leaning heavily to one side and his arm almost vibrating under the pressure to hold himself up. Newt’s eyes widened in shock and their mouth fell open. He was vaguely aware of a guiltiness in the back of his mind for scaring them, but he just knew he couldn’t go to a hospital. He didn’t know why. He still couldn’t remember any specific about his life, but he knew that he could not go to the hospital. He had to stay away from them. “Please.” He said finally, much softer and pleading, and Newt’s face softened at the word.

Then there was a scoff from one of the other figures in the alley. The figure stepped forward so he could actually see the face, a thick jaw and neck with a fat nose and a buzz cut, and looked down at the three on the floor. “You’re kidding right? Of course we’re taking him to a hospital.” Big nose said.

Chuck glared at big nose, almost growling with anger, and Newt sighed and looked from him to big nose. “It might be okay not going.”

“Don’t care.” Big nose said with annoyance, looking down at the three of them. “He can’t even remember his own name, we’re taking him to a hospital.”

“No!” He shouted before he could stop himself. He let go of Newt’s wrist, not even aware he had still been holding on to it, and somehow found the energy and to push himself to his feet. Every inch of his body and every bone ached with the effort and nausea rose inside him and the taste of vomit hit the back of his throat. But he got to his feet. His head was spinning even more than before and black spots danced across his vision again, but he got to his feet.  
“My name is Thomas.” He said, and as he said it he knew it was true. He was Thomas. He didn’t know how he remembered or why he remembered. But his name was Thomas. “And I’m not going to a hospital.” Big nose looked impressed with the strength Thomas had shown and stepped back – stepped down from the argument as well.

Newt and Chuck stood up as well. The kid’s face was still filled with worry but there a spark of excitement in his eyes and his curls bounced as he jumped to his feet hurriedly. Newt was slower getting up, clearly favouring their left side to their right and grasping their right thigh once they were up, a flash of pain crossing their face quickly which Thomas just managed to catch before it disappeared.

“Okay Thomas, let’s get you somewhere safe and dry then.” They said and smiled again. The smile helped Thomas push past the pain, the ache and the cold to order his thoughts again, ignoring the nausea and the black spots and focusing just on getting somewhere where he could rest. His mind caught hold of the word safe and clung to it.

-

The group took Thomas back to a block of flats not far from the alley where he woke up. He had no sense of remembrance for the city he had found himself in. Some things in that alley – the feeling of pain, fighting, searching for somewhere safe – had sparked a fleeting impression of remembrance, but nothing of the wider city did so as he stumbled through it.

His whole body still ached, but he ignored it the best he could and pushed on. He staggered within the group, struggling to keep going, but still he refused any help. If he could walk by himself – no matter how difficult it was – then he would do so. But the walk was difficult and painful. He was sweating and breathing heavily when the group leading him finally drew to a stop in front of a run-down and tall apartment building. It loomed over Thomas and he felt a prickling of unsurety at entering this place he didn’t know at all, following these people he didn’t know at all. But, he didn’t really know anything at all anyway. He needed help and these people seemed genuine and trustworthy enough. So Thomas followed them into the apartment building.

They took him in the lift up to the fourth floor, and to a flat that was a decent size but felt crowded by the crazy amount of odd furniture stuffed into the main room. There was armchairs and a large sofa and bean-bags and stools slotted next to each that spoke of large gatherings, filling the room with life and noise. Thomas could imagine it, but in his mind it was scripted and formal, filled with blank faces, and he just knew that he had never had anything like that in his life before. He didn’t need his full memory to recognise the feeling biting at his chest underneath the ache. Envy.

“Why don’t you sit down and give yourself a rest?” Newt said gently, and Thomas blinked at them before realising he had just been stood in the doorway for a while.

“Thanks.” He said. His voice was much stronger now than it had been in the alley, though his throat still felt dry and scratchy. He followed Chuck to the larger sofa and sat down next to the kid. The eyes of the group remained on him and he felt a little uneasy under the heaviness of the stares. He could almost sense them weighing him up, judging him, testing him. But it didn’t feel negative. Just curious.

“So you don’t remember anything?” Chuck asked, looking up at him with his eyes still wide, filled with interest and fascination now the worry had started to fade from them. Newt’s head whipped round to look at Chuck and they tsked in his direction. But any reprimand coming was interrupted by more people entering the apartment and the booming voice of the one leading them.

“No, and that’s the problem.” The man said, his voice sure and commanding authority. Authority he was clearly granted by the way everyone else in the room looked at him and placed themselves around him. “Gally was right, he should be taken to a hospital.”

“Of course I’m right.” Big nose – Gally – muttered to himself, but everyone in the room heard it. Newt rolled their eyes, but the movement was more fond and exasperated than anything else, which Thomas had not expected.

“He doesn’t want to go to a hospital.” Chuck defended before Thomas could himself. He was slightly annoyed, but mostly grateful. He didn’t feel particularly insecure or anxious, but with hardly any memories and so many new people around him in a place he didn’t know at all, he was still finding it difficult to be confidant and speak for himself.

The leader of this rag-tag group crossed his arms and shifted his stance, ready to stand his ground, but someone interrupted in before he could. “Let me have a look at him first. If his physical injuries aren’t that bad then there’s nothing they could do for him at the hospital anyway.” A lanky guy spoke, coming out from behind the leader with a messenger bag full to burst at his hip and glancing at Thomas was inquiring eyes.

“Fine.” The leader said, and he stepped back. But still he looked to Thomas with suspicion. Thomas thought he seemed like a stubborn arse, but an understandable one. If Thomas had found himself in an alley he would probably be suspicious himself. The leader didn’t really seem like a jerk like Gally did.

“Don’t worry, Alby’s not really as much of a prick as he’s acting right now.” A voice said gently from next to him. Thomas hadn’t even realised Newt had moved to perch on the arm of the chair beside him. They smiled down at him, and Thomas was comforted by that smile again just as much as he had been earlier. “And you’re in great hands. Jeff’s rather good at looking after us and we usually manage to get ourselves quite a few scrapes and bumps.”

Jeff smiled at Newt’s praise as he bent down in front of Thomas and ducked his head to look through the messenger bag at his side. Thomas peered in once the bag was open and saw it was full of bandages and medical tape and other stuff you would presumably find in a first aid kit. Thomas presumed that is, but he had no idea if that presumption was right or not without his memory to support it. He noticed beside him Chuck was also peering into the bag, the same fascination still filling his face and eyes. He was one hell of a curious kid.

Jeff asked him a lot of questions. Inquiring after what Thomas felt, what he remembered, what he was experiencing. Thomas answered the best he could, telling of how his body ached completely but he felt no real biting or sharp pain anymore, explaining how he remembered sensations and feelings and got snippets of thoughts that must have been his from before but he found no solid memories in his mind. Jeff pronounced him in all purposes fit and healthy. Exhausted and worn down from some strenuous activity that made Thomas wonder what he possibly could have been doing before he collapsed in that alley and lost his memories, but not really injured. Which was surprising, because Thomas was sure the pain he felt when he first awoke had been from some inhibiting injury. But then again, the pain had faded quicker then it surely should from an injury like that, and each second brought less tightness in his chest than they would if he had been injured so.

“Here, take these.” Jeff said once he had finished asking his questions. He fished a couple of little white pills out of his bag – taking them from a plastic bag and not a medicine packet or bottle, Thomas observed. But Thomas felt a sense of security in this place and with those people, with Chuck and Newt on either side of him, so he accepted the pills and swallowed them dry. They burned down his throat, feeling thrice their actual size. Newt sighed and shook their head and Jeff smirked before pressing a bottle of water into Thomas’ hand. “Drink that, because you’re definitely dehydrated, and get some rest.”

“And his memory?” The leader – Alby – asked suddenly, stepping closer to where they were huddled on one end of the large sofa.

“He’d already remembered his name and I can’t see any obvious head wound. What he describes seems a lot more likely to be short-term amnesia as a result of a traumatic event than anything else. His memory will probably start coming back by itself more in a few days.”  
With Jeff’s answer, the group began to disperse. Those that stayed in the background that Thomas had not paid any real attention to left the room with whispering and muttering. Alby pulled Jeff as aside as the medic stood up and they disappeared into a room to the side discussing something – probably Thomas. Chuck bounced up from the sofa, dashing across the room to fiddle with something in the corner, and Newt stood and stretched.

Thomas was a little overwhelmed by all the sudden movement. His head was getting foggy again. His movements were begin to slow, his limbs feeling weighed down by the exhaustion and ache in his body and bones. He downed half the bottle of water he had been handed and it eased some of the burn in his throat as it passed. He hadn’t realised how dehydrated he was until this attempt to fix the issue. He felt a yawn build inside of him and he stifled it behind his hand. His eyes were beginning to droop and his head felt heavy where it rested on his neck. The events of the day – those he remembered and those he did now – had finally caught up with him.

Newt pulled him up from the sofa, and with Chuck’s help shuffled him into another room off the living room and into a warm and comfortable bed. He wanted to express his gratitude for all that they had done for him, but his felt thick in his mouth and when he opened his lips all that escaped was another yawn. His eyes slipped closed and they did not open again before he fell asleep.

-

A bright light hit his face and pulled Thomas from the last vestiges of sleep. He blinked quickly and clumsily lifted his hand to cover his eyes from the intruding rays. In mere moments they had woken him fully though, much to Thomas’ dismay.

He struggled up on to his elbows, taking in the room around him that he had been too out of it to notice the night before. His body felt languid and relaxed. The ache that had plagued every slight movement after he had awoken in that alley had faded to something barely noticeable through the hours he slept. His heart and mind felt lighter.

The doors of the wardrobe in the corner of the room stood open, spilling tops and dresses and jeans and cardigans onto the bedroom floor and the surrounding furniture. Almost every other surface was covered with papers, books, posters and photos and hung intermittently across the walls, only interrupted by the thin and tall windows. It was a room well lived in, and Thomas was intrigued by it. He felt comfortable within it. He wanted to know about the person it belonged to.

He got out of the bed when he could no longer ignore the urge to pee. The living was exactly the same as he remembered it from the night before. Though now it stood empty. A door next to the one Thomas left the bedroom through stood open, revealing a bathroom beyond it. There was a prick of guilt in his chest when Thomas entered and shut the door. He would have preferred being given permission before, a mere formality since he was sure the group would have said yes given how generous and helpful they had been so far, but with no one to ask and the urge too great to resist he did so without. He emptied his bladder, washed his hands, and took large gulps of water from the tap when he was done to ease his dry mouth and throat.

When he left the bathroom, the living room was no longer empty. Newt stood in front of the sofa with another man Thomas did not see the night before, who stood tall and built with short blonde hair. When the door clicked shut behind him, the two turned upon hearing the noise, and both smiled at Thomas in greeting.

“I thought it must be you in there.” Newt said cheerily, manoeuvring around all the furniture in the room to reach Thomas’ side. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Thomas’ voice was even stronger still than it had been. His throat did not burn as he spoke, his limbs did not ache so much as he moved, his head did not bang with pain as he thought. He was better. He wasn’t completely recovered, but he was much better. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.” He hadn’t thanked them yesterday, while he was still suffering from whatever had happened to him, but he wasn’t going to put it off any longer.

Newt’s wide smile faded to a smaller, gentler one and they clasped Thomas’ shoulder. “We have a habit of taking in strays.” They smirked, but it was fond and with no malice, and Thomas found himself smiling back easily. Newt let their hand drop and turned to the other man in the room. “This is Zart by the way. Another one of the strays we’ve picked up.”

Zart let out a booming laugh and stepped forward to shake Thomas’s hand. His grip was tight and Thomas’ entire arm was shook with the force he applied to the greeting. But he smiled widely and his eyes sparkled with amusement and Thomas found himself laughing back at him.

“Bet you’re bloody hungry. How about some breakfast.” Newt asked and lead Thomas through the living room and into the kitchen, where he was greeted with a further two new members of the group. How many of them were there?

“Thomas, meet Fry Pan.” Zart said, placing his large hands on Thomas’ shoulders and guiding him to face the large man standing in front of the oven. Fry Pan looked over his shoulder and waved the spatula he was wielding in greeting. “Wait till you try his scrambled eggs. They’ll have you on your knees begging for more after only one bite.” Zart’s booming laugh was joined by Fry Pan’s own giggle and the blonde went join by the oven.

Thomas turned his attention from them, amusement lifting his spirits, to Newt and the other guy in the kitchen. “Minho.” The man introduced himself, standing from the kitchen table to shake Thomas’ hand as well. His grip was much more relaxed than Zart’s had been, but it was just as sure.

“Thomas.” He replied, though a wasted introduction since surely Minho would have been told about him and heard Zart’s introduction. Minho took it at it’s worth all the same though.

Thomas wolfed down the plate of eggs that was placed before him moments later. His lack of memories obscured his knowledge of how long it had been since he had eaten but he was hungry and the eggs were delicious. He briefly wondered what other food he liked or disliked, realising that his memory loss prevented him from knowing even that simple but relevant fact about himself. It was wonder that was followed by a moment of despair. The first real one Thomas had felt since he woke up in that alley. Since then, everything before this morning, had been a mess of overwhelming confusion and he hadn’t had chance to think upon waking up with no knowledge of who he was and to truly let the loss settle within him. But now, sat with the four friends and listening to them chat and joke, knowing each other and themselves so well, he felt that loss. Did Thomas have friends that he left behind?

He didn’t let himself linger on those thoughts though, but instead tried to focus on positive things he could find. Thomas recalled Jeff’s words from the previous night and tried to find solace in them, trusting them even though he knew next to nothing about the man they came from. He had remembered his name, and surely other memories would start to come back as well soon. And until then, he had been found by good people and he felt comfortable and safe among them.

He spent the day listening to them, talking himself on neutral subjects that he felt he could offer an opinion on. The group rotated, Minho leaving for work, Zart and Newt for classes, Jeff coming in to check on him again and staying much longer than the time needed for just that task. He found out they all lived in different flats in the building, the one he was currently staying in being Newt and Alby’s, and the room he had spent the night in Newt’s. The group were like a community, unofficially led by Alby and his natural authority, supported by each individual’s talents like Fry Pan’s cooking and Jeff’s medical skills.

In the afternoon, Thomas found himself sat on that overly large sofa again, staring out the window behind it. Rain was falling outside once again, much like it had been last night, but it was a calmer, warmer rain. A drizzle that annoyed more than hindered.

A clearing of a throat behind him pulled his attention away from the view though before Alby sat down beside him. “Do you have a minute?” He asked, resting his elbows on his knees and glancing sideways at Thomas.

“Yes.” Thomas answered without any hesitation, turning from the window and facing Alby. He was generous enough to let Thomas stay in his flat, to trust Thomas to be among the people Alby cared about so much, so Thomas could definitely give him a minute. And almost anything else he asked.

Alby smiled warmly at him, a striking difference from the suspicious stare that was all Thomas received last night. “I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night. I admit I was slightly suspicious about your sudden appearance and lack of memories, but it was because of a worry for my friends and ultimately a worry for you as well. I hold no grievance with you beyond that.”

“I understand.” Thomas really did.

“But in the new light of day I can see you really don’t remember anything and that you really don’t pose any threat to us.” Alby huffed out a laugh at his words, and Thomas was partially offended that he found amusement in how little threat Thomas could pose. But with no memories of he was and how weak he was last night he supposed the humour was quite self-evident.

“Thanks, I guess.” Thomas said quietly, more just to say anything in reply than for any specific reason. He could really see the natural authority Alby possessed that probably made him the obvious choice for the unofficial leader of the group.

“We’re gonna look out for you Thomas.” All amusement was gone from Alby then. He was completely serious. “We won’t take you to a hospital if you really don’t want to go and we’ll do what we can to help you get your memory back. I can imagine that there’s nothing worse than not knowing who you are or where you come from. But in return, I need a few things from you.” Thomas felt himself nod along in agreement without really consciously choosing to. “You need to pull your weight where possible, and don’t betray this trust we’re placing in you.”

“I won’t betray it.” Thomas agreed without hesitation. He had no idea who he was or what type of person he was but he felt confident agreeing to that. He could be some arsehole who betrayed all his friends or he could be some bastard that before the amnesia wouldn’t have wasted any time in betraying these random strangers who tried to help, but Thomas didn’t feel like that. He wasn’t like that now, and the Thomas with amnesia wasn’t going to betray these people.

“Excellent.” Alby said with a genuine smile and he sat up to slap Thomas on the back. Thomas was jostled by the action but smiled along. He was learning quickly that this group was very physical and tactile, and if he was honest he was actually really enjoying it. “Now we can tell Chuck you’re definitely hanging around for now when he gets back from school.”

That made Thomas smile, thinking of the kid and his enthusiasm and curiosity. He was glad to think Chuck wanted him around. Thomas found himself quite taken already with Chuck. It made him wonder if he was a kid person generally, getting on well with almost everyone 15 and under, or if there was just something about Chuck that he connected with. But it also made him remember a question he had wanted to ask, even though it was probably none of his business and something he probably shouldn’t ask. But he really wanted to know.

“What’s the deal with Chuck?” Alby, who had just stood back up from the sofa, looked down at Thomas with confusion, and he rushed to clarify his question. “I mean, he’s obviously too young to be living independently and there’s a significant age gap between you lot and him. How do you know him? What about his parents?”

Alby sighed and then sat back down again, and that didn’t bode well for Thomas getting a positive response. “Chuck lives on the first floor with his parents. We met him by running into him around the building and hang with him, have him over for dinner and help with homework and all we can. He…” Alby tailed off and looked down at the floor for a moment, before looking back up to Thomas with a face full of determination. “His parents aren’t abusive, merely because to be abusive they would have to remember he actually exists.”

Thomas didn’t know how to respond. And he didn’t really want to either. Poor Chuck. He was amazed the kid was still so happy and cheerful with having to live with that. Although Thomas had only known Chuck for a day, the enthusiasm the kid possessed didn’t seem like the type to be a random occurrence, but more of a common trait that never really faded. Thomas was glad Chuck at least had the group, but he knew it didn’t make up for that type of rejection from family, parents especially. And he couldn’t help but wonder how he knew that? Was it something he was just aware of, or was it something he knew all too well from his own rejection? What were his parents like? Did he have any family out there that missed him, or did they not care like Chuck’s apparently don’t? He wanted to find out. And until he did, he was going to do what he could along with the group to help out Chuck and look out for him. Thomas didn’t know him that well, but he was sure the kid deserved it.

The door flew open then and the kid himself came bounding into the room. He was smiling wildly and water droplets flew from his bouncing curls as he crossed the room. He threw down his backpack beside the sofa Thomas noted that it was tattered and old but full of patches and stickers and just seemed so Chuck.

“You’re still here.” Chuck observed with excitement, throwing himself down onto the sofa beside Thomas and leaning up against him slightly. When Thomas looked slightly closer at the kid, he could see a note of hesitation and fear behind Chuck’s smile. Thomas felt truly moved that he cared whether Thomas stuck around or not.

“I am.” Thomas agreed.

“Hopefully for quite a while yet.” Newt came into the room after Chuck, smiling that warm smile of theirs as they spoke. Alby stood up again at that and headed to the kitchen, ruffling Chuck’s hair on the way past and clasping Newt’s shoulder. “Haven’t you got homework?”

Chuck grumbled at Newt’s words but pulled his back pack closer and pulled out his books all the same. “I’m glad you stayed. I was a bit worried Newt’s strictness would scare you away.”  
“Watch it.” Newt said with a smirk as they sat down on one of the many small, comfy stools scattered throughout the room in front of the sofa. They picked up a piece of paper from underneath Chuck’s feet and Thomas just caught sight of the equations on it. Maths homework then.

“No, they’ve been great.” Thomas replied absentmindedly, reading the page of the history book Chuck had open over the kid’s shoulder. He only realised a brief moment later what he had said, and he looked away from the textbook to Newt, who was looking at him with interest. “Sorry, I…I don’t know how to refer to you.”

Newt smiled at him – smile full of pleasant surprise. “They is right. Most people like to make an assumption I’m somewhere on the binary, throwing ‘he’ or ‘she’ around depending on how masculine or feminine I look. It’s always nice when someone doesn’t assume, especially since I am very much not on the binary. I’m agender, neither male nor female, and I use they pronouns.”

“Oh.” Thomas couldn’t think of what to say, feeling honoured to be told something so personal even though Newt seemed free with the information anyway. He was glad he hadn’t misgendered Newt, even if it had all been accidental. “Okay, now I know.”

“And just so you’re aware, Zart doesn’t always use he pronouns. He’s genderfluid, going between male and female, and yesterday and today were he days, but not all days are. He always makes sure to let us know what pronouns he is using though.” Thomas nodded along to Newt’s words, taking in what they were saying and making sure he remembered it.

“Okay.”

“Aren’t you going to ask anything?” Chuck looked up from his textbook as he asked the question, showing that he really hadn’t been reading anyway, rather paying attention to Thomas and Newt’s discussion. “I asked loads of questions when I got told. Some of them rather rude.” He said the last part quietly, and Thomas could tell he was ashamed of that. Newt seemed to pick up the same thing, because they ruffled Chuck’s hair and smiled at him.

“I don’t have anything to ask.” Thomas really didn’t. He couldn’t think of anything he needed to know beyond what he had been told. Agender and genderfluid weren’t identities he was already aware of – or he remembered – but Newt had explained everything essential and Thomas understood it. “You explained everything essential and I didn’t think it was my place to ask for anything more personal.”  
Newt’s mile grew even brighter at that, and suddenly they leant forward and hugged Thomas. Thomas flinched at the sudden contact, not expecting it and his body apparently not used to being embraced like that. Newt felt the flinch and pulled back quickly, collapsing back onto the stool with an apologetic look in place of the smile that had faded.

“I’m sorry.” They said. “I should have asked permission first and checked you were okay with it.”

“No, I-“ Thomas cut himself off, needing a second to right his thoughts after the hug had thrown them out of place. It was because the contact was so unexpected and yet so pleasant – and also because of the flash of knowledge it had given him off his past life. He liked hugs, but he didn’t get them as often as he would like. “I was just taken aback. I’m up for hugs.”

Then Thomas found himself caught in a crushing hug from Newt and Chuck and he laughed and hugged back. Yes, he liked hugs a lot.

-

Sun. Dust. Warmth. Laughter.

Wind. Grit. Cold. Screaming.

A brown hand gripping his leg. Blood staining the fingers. Blood staining his skin.

Black hair. A soft voice. A warm, comforting embrace.

Thomas awoke with the images from his sleep dancing across his mind. It had been the same every night for the past week. Flashes of feelings and pictures, but nothing concrete. Nothing Thomas could grab a hold of and turn into an actual memory.

He sighed and sat up, running a hand across his hair and probably making his bed head worse. He was getting kind of fed up with the limited information his brain was revealing to him. He got the impression that something bad had happened to him, to his life. The screaming and the blood and the amnesia definitely spelt it out for him, but it was also a feeling he got from the dream. A feeling of unrest and fear. But he had no idea what it was that had happened. He had no idea who the bloody hand belonged to, who the black hair belonged to. He was frustrated that he couldn’t remember. He wanted to remember. He needed to remember.

But he wasn’t remembering. Not yet. And there was nothing he could do about it really. So he let himself have his moment of frustration, gripping the duvet in his fists and clenching his jaw. Then he took a deep breath and let the frustration fade.

He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He was up earlier than he had to be, but there was no way he was sleeping now with the fresh images in his mind. He had a few hours free now until he should start getting ready to head out with Minho.

The man had been just as helpful to Thomas as the rest of the group had been, even going a step further and giving Thomas a more permanent place to stay and a chance for a job because he had the opportunity to do so. Minho was the only one in the group with a spare room in his place, one of the smaller flats at the top of the building, and since it was pretty much agreed that Thomas would be hanging around for a while, it made sense to give him a room of his own somewhere. And of course Thomas was not going to stay there for an extended period of time without paying his way. But luckily, the place where Minho worked was always looking for an extra hand, so he had put in a good word for Thomas. And today was his first trial shift.

He wasted away the hours he had to spare curled up on the sofa in Minho’s place reading one of the books Newt had lent him. Thomas couldn’t remember ever having read any book before, though he was positive he must have read some. The thriller he was making his way through now was engaging and enjoyable and Thomas wondered if he liked thrillers or not. The person he was now without memories liked them, but did the Thomas from his old life? Hundreds of little things a day made him stop and think and wonder about the loss of his memories. About who he was before and who he was becoming now. It was a little overwhelming at times, but Thomas was beginning to get used to it in a way. He was developing ways of ignoring the thoughts. And he did that now, focusing on enjoying the book – even if it was for the second time.

Time went quickly when he was reading, and soon Minho was up and dragging Thomas out of the flat. The head office for the delivery company Minho worked for wasn’t far so walking there didn’t take long, and soon Thomas was suited up and ready for his first go at being a runner. The delivery company was famous for their workers running for the deliveries, using the side streets that are so prominent in this town that have too many steps and sharp turns for vehicles or bikes. And they were still the fastest and best deliverers in the town.

For his first few times out, Thomas was shadowing Minho. So every time Minho went out on a delivery, Thomas followed, and it was hard work. He learned quickly on the job that apparently he was quite active in his old life. It was a fact he had been told and made vaguely aware of from his quick recovery over the past week since he had been found in that alley. But now running down streets and alleys and up steep stairs, Thomas really learned that he was actually very fit. Although not quite as fit as he could be.

By the time they reached the office to hand over a collection of files – their third delivery of the day – Thomas had to stop for a rest outside the building as Minho delivered the package. He bent to rest his hands on his knees and breathe deeply, his chest feeling tight and the muscles in his legs burning. It was a fantastic feelings in a way though. It was a feeling of a job well done and effort being put into his life and actually living. But it still hurt like hell and he was glad for the few minutes break.

“You alright there?” Minho asked, coming back over to where Thomas was crouched in front of the office, delivery successfully made.

Thomas gave Minho a thumbs up. “Yeah, I’m peachy. Just need a moment to remember how to breathe.” Minho laughed at his response and clapped Thomas on the back. He was jarred by the action and he had to straighten up to prevent himself from falling to the ground.

“Just makes sure you do remember. Newt will kill me if I bring you back in any state worse than exhausted.” Minho nodded at him and then started slowly walking back down the steps that led away from the office building and to the street. He was walking slowly for him though, given Thomas enough time to get his breath back and catch up. It was Minho’s own personal way of showing teasing care – the words and the actions – and Thomas was getting used to it. At first Minho’s jokey casual attitude to things and seeming lack of care had confused Thomas since he was a member of a group that seems to revel in caring and seriousness around the subject. But then he realised it was just Minho’s own personal way of expressing care.

Thomas took a few more deep breaths, stretching his arms and legs, and then he set off after Minho. It was going to take him a few days to get up to speed with him and the other runners, but he was he could do it. And he wanted to do it. There was something about this job that just seemed right. Not being stuck inside all day and being able to move and dash and get places other people can’t hit something in Thomas that brought him to life. He really enjoyed it, and he was going to make it work.

-

“Here, have a beer.” Minho told Thomas and shoved a bottle into his hand. Thomas accepted it gratefully and collapsed down onto the large sofa in Newt and Alby’s flat. His legs felt like jelly and he was honestly scared they would give out underneath him if he stayed standing for too long.

The trial session at work had been great, they had all but confirmed that the job was his, after one more trial session just to get him up to speed, but it had been exhausting. There was a part of Thomas that just wanted to head up to Minho’s place and sleep for a week. But Minho had informed the others of the good news and Thomas returned to the building to find a part being thrown in his honour at Newt and Alby’s place. He was tired, but he didn’t mind being at the party. He was so happy that they had gone out of their way to celebrate his good news, felt so touched that they cared so much, and he wasn’t passing up a great chance to just hang with this eccentric group he’d ended up with.

Thomas sipped at his beer, savouring the taste and the moment. It was probably going to be his only one of the night so he was going to drink it steadily. And that way he would always have a drink in his hand so no one would try persuade him to drink anymore. The group were milling around him as he stayed rooted on the large sofa – the spot that was gradually becoming his regular spot whenever he came over here. That was a nice thought. All of the people had come over to congratulate him and chat. All apart from Gally.

Minho had hung with him when they first got back, thrusting the beer into his hand and telling how much of a natural he seemed at the job. Alby had come over to shake his hand and tell Thomas he did well. Zart, Winston and Jeff had come barrelling past him as a group, already pretty drunk. Zart showed off the new dress she was wearing and Jeff tried to give him advice about recovering from the day but it came out in a garbled mess. Winston was just laughing in amusement at them, able to handle his drink better than the other two but still inebriated enough. They eventually staggered on, in search of more drinks and the laptop to play ‘better music’ according to Zart. Everyone had made their way around to see him and chat and congratulate, and Thomas felt so moved by the attention and the support. It felt right, like he belonged, and Thomas was so grateful he ended up being found by them.

However, Gally kept his distance. He spent most of the night in the kitchen, making his way through many bottles of beer and chatting with anyone who am near him. He hardly left his little area, keeping a far distance from Thomas and his own spot on the sofa. It was ridiculous. Thomas had no idea what he had done to deserve this reaction. He had understood the initial suspicion – much like Alby’s own that first night – but the continued glares and distance made no sense to Thomas. Alby had gotten over it once he realised Thomas really didn’t remember anything and his intentions were good, everybody else in the group had no problem with him at all, and yet Gally was still being a dick.

“But I don’t wanna go.” Chuck’s whining voice caught Thomas’ attention from near the door. Minho and Newt were stood with him – Minho’s hands on his hips and Newt’s arms crossed, the mirror image of two fed-up parents. Thomas smiled at the sight and got to his feet to go join them.

“It’s 10 Chuck, and we let you have a beer. Now it’s time for you to go home before this all gets too crazy.” Newt said pointedly. Chuck huffed and crossed his own arms, still refusing to budge. He was acting more like a toddler than the 15 year old he was and Thomas was amused, but decided to lend a hand to Newt and Minho anyway.

“Come one buddy, you know you’re too young to be hanging around a party like this.” Thomas said gently, reaching out to ruffle the curly brown hair. Chuck huffed again and tried to avoid his hand, but Thomas noticed a relaxing of his posture. Chuck had practically begged to be allowed to stay at the party so he could celebrate Thomas getting the job as well and Thomas was so happy the kid cared so much. He knew he probably had the best chance of convincing Chuck to go back home tonight.

“It’s not going to be that fun anyway, just loud music you can’t speak over and awkward small talk.” Thomas bent slightly so he could look Chuck in the eye, lowering his voice as though they were sharing something private; a secret. “It’s be much more fun if we hung out together tomorrow evening and played video games, don’t you think?”

Chuck’s pout broke into a wide grin and the kid nodded eagerly. He still seemed a little put-out, but he obligingly put his shoes on and grabbed his bag and shouted out a goodbye before heading down to his own place.

Minho laughed stretched his arms above his head once the door shut behind Chuck. “Thomas, the child whisperer. Maybe we should have gotten you hired as a babysitter instead.” He laughed again, being joined by the few members of the group who over heard the comment. Thomas laughed himself at the teasing. But really, if the kids he was watching were just a bunch of Chucks, he wouldn’t mind getting paid to hang out with them while keeping an eye on them.

Thomas went and sat back down on the sofa, the crouch to reach Chuck’s eye level making his legs ache again after all the running today. Newt followed him over and collapsed down beside him. They sat close enough that their side was pressed against Thomas’ and took the beer out of Thomas’ hand to take a swig themselves.

“I am proud of you, Tommy, for the job. And it’s really amazing to see how you are with Chuck.” They said and licked their lips. The nickname was a surprise. Newt hadn’t ever called him that before, but it was sweet and it made something flutter in Thomas chest. He found his attention drawn to Newt’s lips as they licked them and then they quirked up into that usual lovely smile that Thomas was getting used to receiving. The one that made him feel grounded and uplifted no matter how caught in his own frustration he was.

“Thanks.” Thomas said, not sure how else to respond. Newt’s pride in him felt amazing, everyone’s pride in him felt amazing, and it left him happy and light for the night. He felt again how lucky he was to have ended with these people, to have found a place with them. He spent the rest of the party on the sofa, sharing the bottle of beer and one more with Newt, pressed against each other and enjoying each other’s company in a comfortable silence.

-

Several days later, Thomas is shopping in the grocery store with Fry Pan after his first full shift and he’s exhausted. But he pushed the cart around the shop even though he just wanted to fall into bed because he had promised he’d go. Fry had gotten the idea in his head he could teach Thomas how to cook some stuff since Thomas was useless in the kitchen.

“We’re going to get tagliatelle for the pasta dish.” Fry Pan told him with a hearty smile and he led the way to the pasta aisle with a bounce in his step. Thomas sighed but dutifully pushed the cart after him. A promise was a promise.

“That’s the one Clint likes, right?” Thomas asks when Fry Pan finally stops and begins to considering the many different pastas to choose from. He had explained to Thomas about the different dishes he was going to try teach Thomas to cook, and that contained which member of the group really liked each dish of course. Thomas wasn’t surprised. The group revolved around the bond between all the boys and so Fry’s food choices revolving around what each of them liked to eat was almost expected.

Fry Pan just hummed in distracted agreement, most of his attention absorbed by the array of pastas. Thomas rolled his eyes and decided to pick up some bits and pieces for him and Minho, leaving his shopping partner to his pasta. Thomas had only been to the store once before in the time since he had woken up in that alley. He had been dragged along by Newt in a mass group with Chuck, Minho, Jeff, Zart, Ben and even Gally. It had been chaos and a mess but so much fun, and it left a definite impression in Thomas’ mind. But it was a store like any other store and so it wasn’t hard to find his way around.

He dawdled, took his time, knowing Fry Pan would be enraptured by the many types of tagliatelle he had to choose from and then everything else he needed for the dish. The store was busy since it was the evening, after general working hours, and Thomas shuffled through the crowds with the cart. Something in his mind told him this was what to expect in a grocery store at this time of day, but he had no idea where the knowledge was coming from. Logically he had almost definitely been in a grocery store before in his life, but with the memories missing from his mind, the knowledge seemed to come from nowhere.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of black hair. Of darker skin much like his own. Of a figure and a face that hurried away before he could catch a clearer sight.

Thomas was frozen where he stood, eyes searching out the figure through the people scattered in between the aisle and product display stands, his mind reeling from sudden images of the same figure from the flashes his dreams had given him. And then his body moved almost without his bidding, through the rows and after the figure. He abandoned the cart, forgot all about Fry Pan and the dishes he was going to cook Thomas, and followed the path he thought the figure had taken out of the store.

Of course, once he got outside there was no sight of the figure at all. He could see no trace of that skin or that hair. The figure was gone, slipped through his fingertips, like the memory of who it had been as well. He felt like he had managed to grab at the frayed edges of it, had almost been able to drag who the figure was into his mind, but it had gotten away. He was left frustrated. He sighed and scrubbed at his face, pressing his knuckles hard into his eyes as though he could rub away the images of the sand and the sun and the figure and the small, loving smile that he was so sure came from it. Of course he couldn’t. And he was left with the images plaguing him afresh as he turned and went back into the store. There was still nothing he could do about it, no matter how frustrated he was. But he could keep his promise to Fry Pan and focus on what he did have now with the group that were helping him so much.

-

He didn’t have any other flashes of memories or images while he was awake for a while after the incident in the grocery store. But of course the dreams were a constant feature of his life. Everyone knew they were. Thomas had noticed the worried looks he got from Minho in the mornings after very vivid dreams, had noticed Newt having whispered conversation with Jeff and Clint that were cut off when they noticed Thomas approaching.

Even Chuck realised how the flashes were plaguing Thomas, when one afternoon as they were playing video games, a monster came out of the dark at Thomas’ character and he fell apart. It was some generic video game creature – a low level enemy that is meant to be more of an annoyance than a hindrance – but there was something about the half organic, half mechanical nature of the creature that made Thomas remember a dream from a few nights back.

As usual it had been nothing concrete. Just flashes. Flashes of these horrible creatures that looked like giant balls of dough with robotic arms, sharp enough to slice a limb straight off, protruding randomly from their doughy bodies. They had rolled along the ground, squelching and licking, coming for Thomas. It had to be some memory from some film or game. But of course Thomas didn’t know which. He just knew the fear and overwhelming urge to run away the flashes left in him when he woke up panting and sweating.

Thomas flinched away from the screen as the creature came for him and the control slipped from his hands. He could feel nausea rising within him, his body reacting to some instinct that came from a memory he couldn’t remember at all.

“Are…Are you alright, Thomas?” Chuck asked, his voice full of hesitancy. Thomas reached to turn off the tv, finally getting rid of the image of the creature that was freaking him out, and turned to Chuck.

“Sorry.” He bit out, swallowing the nausea back down and using the worry on Chuck’s face to get himself back under control. Thomas felt guilty for worrying the kid. “It just freaked me out a bit.” It was the most honest answer Thomas could give, and he didn’t want to lie to Chuck. Thomas scrubbed his hand over his face, the frustration of not remembering prickling at his mind again.

“Okay.” Chuck said carefully. He put down his own controller, more carefully than Thomas had, but still rattling the thing a little. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it right now.” Thomas was pleasantly surprised by how mature Chuck was responding. It was general knowledge that most kids Chuck’s age wouldn’t have responded with such maturity, and it spoke loads towards Chuck how the group were looking after him that he was.

“Thanks, kid.” Thomas said with a small smile and reached over to ruffle Chuck’s hair.

“Are you going to talk about it with Newt, you know, since you two are all lovey-dovey?” Thomas spluttered at Chuck’s words. Maybe he had judged the kid’s maturity too early. Or maybe he hadn’t, given the shit-eating grin he was giving him. He knew exactly what he was doing, the little brat.

“We’re not lovey-dovey.” Thomas said quickly. Too quickly maybe. It was true though – he thought. Were Thomas and Newt lovey-dovey? Is that how the others saw their interactions? Was that why Thomas sometimes caught the end of sly smirks sent his way whenever he and Newt were talking or close?

“Of course not.” Chuck said with a little sly smirk of his own. “You like them though, right? Like, like them like them.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and started to say no, but before he did he paused and thought about it. He had never considered if he liked Newt before. Of course he liked Newt, they were friends and Newt was a great person. But did Thomas have feelings for them? He thought about the time he had spent with Newt the past weeks since the group found him. He thought about Newt’s smile that from day one had made Thomas feel comforted and safe, he thought about how calm they could be in any situation, he thought about how good they were with Chuck. Thomas thought about how confident Newt was, how strong, with living openly and without regret. And Thomas thought about how caring Newt was. How caring they were of their friends, of Thomas even when they had no idea who he was, of anyone they encountered that needed it.

He did like Newt.

“You do like them.” Chuck said happily and lightly punched Thomas’ arm. Thomas let him do so and then let him babble on for a while since he was too lost in his own thoughts to really stop the kid. He couldn’t believe he had never realised he had feelings for Newt before this. He didn’t really know what to do with the knowledge. If there was anything he could do. He barely even knew who he was, he wasn’t in any place to be looking for someone to like the half person he was or to start a relationship.

“Chuck, you can’t talk about this with anyone, alright?” Thomas said, just loud enough to be heard. Chuck stopped babbling and swallowed hard, clearly picking up on the seriousness in Thomas’ tone.

“Of course not.” Chuck agreed readily, nodding quickly. “It’s your thing.”

“Thanks kid.” Thomas smiled at Chuck and returned the punch the kid had given him earlier. Chuck gasped and rubbed his arm with a pout on his face and Thomas laughed at the fake reaction. “How about we play Mario Kart now instead?”

-

Cold. Screaming.

Metal pressed against his skin. Voices he recognises calling out in fear and pain.

Blood staining his fingers. Blood staining his skin. Blood staining his mind.

Panic. Hurt. Terror.

The creatures rolls towards him. They squelch and they click. They tear at skin.

There’s blood on his face and arms – some of it his, most of it not – and he’s screaming as he scrubs at scratches at his skin to get it off.

It’s staining him. He has to get it off.

The door flies open and light floods into the room. Thomas screams louder and flinches back, expecting one of the creatures or who it is that controls them, but instead it’s Minho stood in the doorway. Minho stood in the doorway of Thomas’ room in Minho’s apartment, there were no creatures or pain, the wetness on Thomas’ skin sweat rather than blood. He had been dreaming.

It was not the first time the flashes Thomas got had turned his dreams into nightmares. Filled his body with fear at the images his mind drew from memories locked out of his reach. Left him sweating and panting and sometimes screaming in response. Sometimes when he awoke like this it made him want to never get his memories back, never remember what life he must have lived before that left him with so much fear and pain and so many terrible memories. He didn’t want to remember the people he may have lost, the trauma he may have lived through, the terror he must have known. As he sat there in bed, covered in sweat and panting heavily, his throat raw from his screaming, he felt like the amnesia could have been the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Thomas?” Minho took a step passed the doorway and into the room. His face, contorted with worry and half hidden in shadows, seemed almost grotesque and made Thomas want to recoil away from him. But he didn’t. Minho meant him no harm. This was the first time Minho had come to Thomas’s room though. Surely other nights Thomas must have awoken him with his yelling, but Minho kept away and never spoke of it the following day, for which Thomas was very grateful. For Minho to come now, there must have been something worse in Thomas’ screams.

“I’m okay.” He mumbled, wiping the sweat off his face and neck with the corner of his sheet. It cooled him a little and helped wipe away the feeling of being covered in blood. But the other images, of clicking metal arms and torn bodies, stayed strong in his mind.

“Alright.” Minho said carefully, but both of them knew it wasn’t. Thomas could see on Minho’s face that he didn’t believe for one second that Thomas was okay, but he was going along with it for now. And Thomas was grateful for that. He didn’t want to talk and Minho seemed to pick up on that.

Minho went back to his own room then with only a nod and one last worried glance in Thomas’ direction. He was going back to get some sleep, he had to be, since it was early enough in the morning that it was still dark out. Thomas could feel his own tiredness tugging at the back of his eyes, but he wasn’t sleeping now. Not after that dream.

Instead, Thomas got out of bed, had a quick shower to get the sweat off his body, and curled up on the sofa with the lamp on by his head, reading a book he had borrowed from Newt. Or attempting to read. He had found it difficult recently to concentrate on the books he borrowed from newt – even ones as engaging as the fantasy novel that currently sat in his hands. He sometimes tried to pretend he didn’t know why, that it was a mystery or just because he was tired or not interested in the books, but really he knew exactly why. It was because of the realisation he had when he was talking to Chuck. The realisation that he liked Newt.

Thomas knew the book he was trying to read was Newt’s, and instead of being able to enjoy the story, he founds his thoughts wandering to what newt thought about the book. Did Newt like the parts Thomas liked? Did they respond to the characters the same way Thomas did? Was there something specific they wanted to share with Thomas by lending the book? They were questions Thomas had considered before the realisation, but now they were questions that took up Thomas’s entire mind. He wanted to know the answers, to understand Newt more.

Thomas had decided at the time that he couldn’t do anything about his feelings at the moment. He couldn’t do anything about them yet. He had no idea who he was as a partner, as a person, and Newt deserved more than that if they did return Thomas’ feelings. And yet, Thomas still found himself wondering what it would be like if he did ask Newt out and his feelings were returned. He imaged still sitting on this sofa with this same book, but with Newt curled up around him, sharing their thoughts and comments as they read over Thomas’ shoulder. Their breath tickling Thomas’s neck, warming a path that their lips could then follow. Thomas thought of taking walks together, and meeting for coffee, and sharing secret, loving smiles when they were within the large group.

Thomas let the book fall shut on his lap. He was reading any of it anyway. He was distracted from his thoughts of the dream that had left him screaming, but it was the frustration of his feelings for Newt that was distracting him and not an engagement with the story that he had been looking for.

He ended up laid on his side on the sofa while the tv played random sitcoms in the background. He the tiredness was pulling at him again now his mind was slightly clearer, and soon minutes were passing between him closing his eyes and opening them again. He dozed there on the sofa for hours, the sun rising outside the window behind him and casting a warm but faint light on Thomas and the room. He reached forward to turn the tv off during one of the times he was awake and his dozing was heavier after without the external annoyance.

The next time he roused awake, he just catches the back of Minho as he leaves for his shift that day, the sun now fully risen behind him. Thomas just briefly noted that he had the day off that day himself, before he rolled over and fell asleep once more with his back to the room and his face pressed against the back of the sofa.

He woke up again to the sound of dishes clanging in kitchen of the flat. Thomas scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself up off the sofa, curious as to the cause of the noise. He was sure he couldn’t have slept long enough for Minho to have finished his shift. So who was in Minho’s kitchen?

Thomas wandered through the living room to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to the room and watching Newt potter about the rather tiny space. Newt didn’t notice he was there at first, just going about their task of making coffee, wearing loose pyjamas and fluffy, pink slippers that were ridiculous but so fitting. Thomas’s lips pulled up into a wide grin at the sight, his stomach tight and his face warm. It was like his imaginations from earlier, before his nap, coming to life before him. The scene could easily have followed a long night between Thomas and Newt, Thomas falling asleep beside Newt, sharing the warmth of the body he would have in his arms.

But that scene was entirely imaginary, and when Newt realised he was there in the doorway, Thomas reminded himself of where he stood. For now.

“You’re up.” Newt noted with a warm smile. They nudged over one of the mugs and Thomas crossed the distance between them to finish his own coffee while Newt got two spoons out. “Fry Pan made a load of porridge so I brought some round for you. I thought we could have breakfast together.”

Thomas noticed the bowls on the worktop. Two bowls full of steaming porridge that smelled great and made Thomas realise he was actually a little hungry. They took their bowls and mugs and Thomas lead the way back into the living room and to the sofa. It was set to be one of the usual comfortable silences that Thomas and Newt could sit in quite easily, but there was a tension in the air that ruined it. On Thomas’s half because his thoughts kept being pulled back to the idea of what spending time with Newt as a couple would be like, and on Newt’s half because the fidgeting and the quick glances they kept sending Thomas were pretty obvious.

“Minho told you, didn’t he?” Thomas couldn’t just sit in the tense atmosphere, and dealing with Newt’s obvious worry was a much easier option than his own feelings.

Newt didn’t even try to deny it. “He’s worried about you Thomas. He said you woke up screaming again.” Newt’s voice was heavy and his brow furrowed as he gave up all pretences and looked straight at Thomas. Thomas didn’t like Newt sounding sad like that, looking worried like that, and he felt frustrated that it was his own amnesia causing trouble for everyone else around him now as well.

“It was just a nightmare.” Thomas mumbled, looking down at the porridge he no longer had any appetite for. “Everyone has nightmares.”

“Yeah, and everyone sometimes needs to talk about those nightmares because they can be really awful.” Newt said pointedly. Then they sighed and suddenly Thomas’ was being forced to look back to them with their hand gripping his chin. “Minho cares about you and he’s going to worry no matter what.” Newt leaned closer forward, shortening the gap between their face and Thomas’s dramatically. “I care about you. And if there’s something I can do to help ease any pain or sadness then I want to do it.”

Newt’s hand fell away but their face stayed just as close. Their eyes were sincere and boring into Thomas’s hard. It felt impossible to look away. Thomas licked his lips almost unconsciously, his mind still playing with images of what-ifs, thinking about how easy it would be to lean forward and kiss Newt. Newt’s lips quirked up, into that smile, and as usual it settled Thomas, it lessened his frustration and quietened his mind.

“You don’t want to talk now, alright. But remember that I’m here and if at any point you do want to talk, then I’ll always be ready to listen.” Thomas nodded. He didn’t know if he would ever want to talk about the flashes and the memories, if he could ever talk about them, but he knew that if he ever did, it would be Newt he went to. Newt, who had been there from the start, who was always on Thomas’ side and supporting him, who had so much care inside them, who never failed to make Thomas feel better.

Then Newt leaned in and pressed a gentle yet deliberate kiss to Thomas cheek. Close to the corner of his mouth. Thomas’s head tilted on instinct, leaning into the lips that lingered for a moment against his skin. And when Newt pulled back, there was a moment. A spark. Something. And then they went back to their bowl of porridge.

Thomas wanted to chase after whatever that had been. He wanted to grab hold of Newt and the potential that had been dropped between them there and hold them tight and never let go. He couldn’t do that with his flashes of memories. He had to do it with something. But Thomas felt that now wasn’t the time for that yet. He wasn’t the man for that yet. So he left it and went back to his own breakfast.

He held onto the thought and hope that he would chase it one day though.

-

Thomas doesn’t have any nightmares or dreams for a while after that. He still hasn’t spoken about the weird images his mind has given to him, and he still didn’t really want to. He hoped this sudden absence of flashes was a good thing, a break preceding the return of more vivid and tangible memories that would actually give him an idea of who he was. In the brief moments after a nightmare, he does consider his amnesia a blessing in keeping upsetting memories away from him, but those moments never lasted long.

Later that day, the frustration would be back in his mind. Frustration at himself from not being able to remember and frustration at his mind for withholding his memories from him. He wanted to know who he was. He had spent too long existing without knowledge of his past. A shadow of a man that came before, yet bearing the same name out of necessity. It was infuriating to not really know who he was, to not be able to understand his life or what type of a man he was. He needed to know. He needed to know so he could live his life, so he could be a better friend and a potential partner. A mind full of memories can learn from past mistakes, can expand with new knowledge, can grow with new experiences and meeting new people. A shadow, empty mind cannot.

It was that frustration the spurred Thomas on during his shift running one cloudy afternoon. There was a lot of deliveries to be made, and he was sent back and forth all over the town. He had spent hours and hours poring over maps of the town, walking around with Minho or anybody who could spare the time, and yet he still didn’t know every turn and alley in the town by heart. And every mistake and wrong turn he made just made his frustration grow.

Then one turn taken too quickly, not carefully enough, found his foot slipping on a damp patch from an earlier spot of rain. His leg slipped out from under him and his body hit the ground. He growled at the ground beneath him, his shoulder and hip aching from the contact with the ground on his fall. He slapped his hand down on the damp patch, the sting of it doing nothing but adding to pain and anger. Luckily he was returning from a delivery, so there was nothing to be damaged.

He ended his shift with the frustration still bubbling shallowly under his skin. His head was clouded and his left side ached. He stumbled back home from the office, his thoughts focused only on getting back to Minho’s apartment and curling up on the couch for the movie marathon Newt had decided they were having a day earlier. It was definitely an attempt to cheer him up and relax him – Newt had been trying lots of things to achieve that goal recently. Thomas really appreciated that they were trying. Most of the attempts had been group things – random parties, trips to the park, another mass grocery store run – and they had been fun and relaxing. But they hadn’t been enough to make Thomas forget his frustrations.

Tonight was not a group thing though. It was just going to be the two of them. And Minho was out with some other guys from the group for a night of crazy fun that promised to last till the early hours and would be staying at Gally and Ben’s, so the two of them would be alone in the place. They had been alone there before. They had spent time alone together before. But with Thomas’ realisation of his feelings and the spark that remained between him and Newt since his last nightmare, there was something about tonight that felt like it might be different.

The clouds that sat heavy in the sky had finally given in and the intermittent showers of the day turned into full rain as Thomas made his way back. People rushed past him with their heads bowed and the only busy street on his route back was emptier than usual after his shifts. Thomas ducked his own head a little, but he honestly didn’t mind the rain, and the feel of the cold water hitting his face was a welcome relief after the tiring day he had.

A sweep of black hair in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Thomas froze and looked across the road, expecting the fleeing figure as usual when one of his flashes seemed too real, but that wasn’t what he saw on the other side of the street. Instead, there was a girl stood opposite him, the road stretching between them, staring right back Thomas.

Thing suddenly clicked in Thomas’s mind – not fully, not a full flow of memories, but enough that he remembered her face. He knew the girl on the other side of the street, with her tar-like black hair and tanned skin and burning black eyes. His mind raced as he tried to place how he knew her. What was she to him? Was she family, a friend, a lover? Thomas had no idea, but he knew she was someone important.

She stared intently back at him, her own face almost blank, except for a small note of surprise in the lift of her eyebrows and the looseness of her lips. They stared at each other for moments, a few intense moments where the rest of the world kept on turning, not realising the immense moment happening in Thomas’ life. Then the girl shook her head – to herself or to Thomas was anyone’s guess – and then she turned and was gone.

Thomas’ legs itched to chase after her, but at the same time they were rooted still on pavement on his side of the street. He knew that girl. She had seen him and recognised him. She could have been an answer, a key to unlock the chain holding his memories tight. And now she was gone.

The frustration Thomas had been feeling throughout the day doubled with in. It was no longer bubbling beneath his skin but boiling his veins and pounding against his bones. He jogged the rest of the way back to the apartment building, his heart raging too much for him just to walk, but his mind too distracted for his stuttering speed to break into a run. He flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time and turning wildly between flights, and burst into Minho’s flat ready to fight the world and scream his lungs out. Every second, every step, every breath got him more and more worked up. He was a mess.

“Hey.” Newt said from where they sat on the sofa, a book open in their lap and that same, small smile on their face. It worked, as usual, to calm Thomas somewhat. But it didn’t work enough. There was still frustration within in him.

“Hi.” He bit out, not wanting to direct his anger at Newt, but being unable to hold it in completely. Hopefully Newt would write it off as him just having a bad day at work. “I’m just gonna go get a shower.”

It was an excuse to leave the room. A valid excuse because Thomas was sweaty and dirty and wet, but an excuse to run away and hide for a little while all the same. He showered, scrubbing hard at his body as is he could scrub the frustration and amnesia out of his skin, and when he got out of the bathroom in loose clothes actually felt a little better. The water had been too hot and his skin stung from it, and the steam too much making his head light, but the frustration inside of him had lessened that little bit more.

He was still infuriated enough that he could hardly keep still during the first movie Newt put on. It was some action film that apparently everyone had to see. Thomas could have already seen it. Or he could have not. It’s not like it mattered since he couldn’t remember anything anyway. Newt kept shooting him worried looks and Thomas wanted that to stop, but he couldn’t stop himself from shifting around or his legs from bouncing. He had no idea what the story of the film was, he couldn’t focus to notice anything more than when a new car chase started or another building was blown up. Instead, his head was filled with thoughts of that girl, of those damn creatures that plagued his dreams, of the flashes of sand and blood.

Thomas wanted his memories back. Even if they brought a hell of a lot of trauma and pain with them.

Newt reached over eventually and put their hand on top of Thomas’ bouncing knee. Thomas’ leg stilled at that and he managed to focus enough to give New his attention. They looked worried as anything and Thomas didn’t like it. He didn’t like Newt being anything but happy, and he especially didn’t like that he had caused that. Even if inadvertently.

“What’s going on?” Newt asked, no pretences or build up. Thomas’ first instinct was to say there wasn’t anything going on. He didn’t entertain that answer for more than a moment. It was clear there was something going on, saying there wasn’t would be an outright lie. He wouldn’t lie to Newt like that.

“I thought I saw someone I knew today.” Thomas decided to go for the truth instead. Or at least as close to the truth as his brain could understand at the moment. “Someone from before.” Newt kept telling him they were there if Thomas wanted to talk. People kept telling Thomas he should talk. So what the hell? He’d finally reached a point where he was frustrated enough to give talking a try.

“Who?” Newt sounded surprised and curious. And their hand stayed on Thomas’ knee, a comforting and supportive weight that felt like one of the only things holding Thomas together.  
“I don’t know.” Thomas said harshly. Again he felt guilty for lashing out at Newt, but it took all he had to not shout that response. The frustration was biting at his lips and tearing at his tongue. “I just saw her and I knew she was someone I know. I have no idea where from and why, but I know I know her. And it’s just all so frustrating.”

The hand on his knee wasn’t enough then and Thomas flew to his feet and started pacing. He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Talking about it was just getting himself more worked up. He didn’t want to shout, he didn’t want to take his frustration out on Newt, he didn’t want to be this kind of worked up arsehole. He just wanted to be able to play video games with Chuck and cook with Fry Pan and get awful fashion advice from Zart. He just wanted to be able to enjoy the somewhat peace he had reached with Gally and live contentedly with Minho and share books with Newt. And he wanted to be able to do all of that as a full person without this frustration and mess.

“I understand.” Newt stood up as well, though they stayed in front of the sofa while Thomas continued to pace around the room.

“Do you?” He threw his hands up in air. Newt didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t stop himself.  
“Well, no, I guess I don’t.” Newt looked down and their voice was heavy and full of sadness and pain suddenly. And that was enough for Thomas to get a hold of himself, to stop pacing and to push the damn frustration back a little so he could behave and talk like a decent human being for a few minutes.

“Sorry. I just let it all get the better of me.” It took a few seconds, during which the sounds Thomas’ heavy breathing filled the room, but Newt did eventually look back up. Their eyes were wide, but determined, and their lips set tight.

“No, it’s okay.” They stepped forward and closed nearly all of the distance between the two of them, bringing themselves up close to Thomas. “I want to help you Thomas, and if this is what you need then I’m here for it as well.”

“But why?” Thomas couldn’t stop himself from asking. Why was Newt so prepared to put themselves in that position to help Thomas? What was so special about him? Through the mess of his frustration and lack of knowledge for anything about his own life, he needed to know now suddenly this thing about Newt’s life.

“Because I like you, you big idiot. Romantically.” Thomas scoffed at that. It immediately made Newt fluff up with anger and Thomas felt completely guilty because a confession was a brave thing. There was a part of him – a massive part of him – that flew at the confession. He was filled with so much joy to have Newt return the feelings Thomas had yet to confess himself. But he just couldn’t believe them fully – especially not with the frustration at his amnesia still very fresh in his mind.

“You can’t like me.” Thomas tried to explain, and of course Newt protested, so Thomas kept going. “You don’t even know who I am. You can’t know who I am because I don’t even know who I am. I’m not a proper person Newt, I’m a shadow of a man who is still locked up inside my head. You can’t like me. And even though I like you, because oh god I really, really do, it can’t mean anything yet because I’m still just half a person.”

Newt was silent for a moment. They looked at Thomas with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, and then their lips quirked up into that smile again. “That’s ridiculous.”

“What?”

“That’s all completely ridiculous.” Newt’s hands came up and cupped Thomas’ cheeks, framing his face and forcing him to remain looking directly at Newt. “You’re not a shadow, or half a person. Just because you don’t have your memories it doesn’t mean you aren’t still just as much a person as the rest of us. And I do know you. I don’t need to know where you grew up or what your family was like or what you did three years ago to know how sweet and caring and funny you are. I can see that fine in how amazing you are with Chuck, and how respectful you are of me and Zart, and how sometimes your ridiculous jokes can even have Alby cracking a smile. I know who you are Thomas. And I really like who you are.”

Newt smiled wider and then leaned and pressed their lips against Thomas’. It was a gentle, chaste kiss and nothing more. And then they pulled back and looked to Thomas expectantly. Thomas wasn’t sure what they were expecting. A response to their speech that left Thomas with the breath knocked out of him and such wonderful compliments from someone as amazing as Newt? A response to kiss that took any residual breath Thomas had away because he never thought he would have that and it was fantastic? Whatever it was, Thomas knew he shouldn’t give it to them. He knew they still deserved someone who actually knew who they were and could be a proper partner. But with everything had happened today, with all of Thomas’ frustration and loss since he woke up in that alley raging in his head, he couldn’t make himself care about that anymore.

He surged forward and re-joined their lips, and this time the kiss was not chaste and it was not gentle. It was heated and passionate and full yet still full of everything bit of the feelings Thomas had for Newt. And he was pretty sure it was full of their feelings for him as well.

And the movies were forgotten after that. Instead they spent hours curled up together on the couch, exchanging kisses and touches and whispered words. Sometimes it was gentle and delicate, lips barely touching and fingers brushing lightly against skin. Sometimes it was hard and passionate, teeth clashing as they kissed furiously and fingers gripping tight enough to bruise. Then clothes were lost, and touches and lips wandered further. And they ended the night in Thomas’ bed, both naked and exhausted but feeling wonderful.

-

Thomas woke up the next morning to Newt shifting around on the bed, pulling on their clothes that had been hastily shed the night before. Thomas grumbled but didn’t do anything to stop them. They had classes that morning, Thomas knew that. But he was feeling very happy and content in his sleepy state after the night before – no pricks of frustration at all – and he really didn’t want Newt to leave. He couldn’t stop him though, not really. Newt was committed to actually attending class, being a dedicated student.

“I’ve gotta go.” Newt said quietly, and Thomas looked up at them and took some comfort in the fact that they looked upset that they had to leave as well. “We should talk though, tonight. I’ll come back here.” They leaned down and pecked Thomas’ lips. Hesitancy flashed across their face as they pulled back, and even though Thomas was still full of doubts and worries about going for it with them, he had committed now. So he smiled wildly and leaned up to return the peck, this one lingering for a few moments more. It left Newt smiling, a wider and even brighter variation of that usual smile that made Thomas feel better.

“We’ll talk.” Thomas agreed, and Newt waved and left to go their classes.

Thomas let himself linger in bed for a little longer, thinking about the fact that they would have to talk. Last night had been amazing. The confessions, the intimacy, the kissing, the sex. Thomas still had worries and doubts over how good any of this could be, how good he could be, when he didn’t even know who he was. But now he had a taste of what being Newt was like – a real taste beyond just his imagination – he wasn’t prepared to let it go. It was selfish of him, he thought, to want everything he could from Newt when he wasn’t even sure what he could back to them without his memories. But he wanted to try. He wanted to try so he could have nights like last night, mornings waking up with Newt, and all the things Thomas had imagined since he realised his feelings. Newt believed that they knew who Thomas was, and with their confidence and surety Thomas could almost believe it. Or at least he could try to. Because that meant that the two of them got to be together.

 

He couldn’t lounge in bed all day though. He didn’t have anything on – his longer shift yesterday giving him an extra day off today – but he got restless easy and felt too lazy just laying around all day. So a walk to the store it was. There wasn’t really anything Thomas and Minho needed, but he still didn’t know the city that well and most people in the group were busy. But Thomas could find his way to the shop and back, and he felt confident in doing it by himself.

He threw on a pair of jeans and top that he had borrowed off someone from the group. Newt had practically thrown a pile at him after a few days of Thomas borrowing stuff off Alby, who was closest to his size. The pile of clothes was a mix match of stuff everyone around Thomas’ size had contributed to. Even Gally, Thomas found out recently, when Zart had commented that the top he was wearing was terribly awful, even more so than when Gally had worn it. But Thomas wasn’t to complain or anything. Yes, Gally was still somewhat cold to him, but they had seemed to have reached some kind of accord. Their nods of greeting were rather cordial now and the other night they had actually had a short conversation without anyone yelling. There was a measure of mutual respect now. And even if there wasn’t, Thomas didn’t have many options the first few days after he woke up in that alley. He had no clothes of his own, and no job or money to get them, so he was grateful for everything the group had done for him.

The walk to the shop was refreshing and distracting enough, better weather than the day before making his walk much more enjoyable than his walk home from work had been yesterday. The events that had taken place after he had gotten home did a lot for improving his mood as well. Talking about what was plaguing his mind had actually done a lot to ease his frustrations. Damn Newt and knowing everything so well. Newt returning his feelings was wonderful and Thomas’ stomach still had fluttering butterflies from it. Plus, the sex had been truly excellent. He felt lighter than he had in weeks, and there was probably a bounce in his step as he went round the shop, getting some milk, some eggs and some of the chocolate he had recently learned was Newt’s favourite. That would make them happy, a nice little surprise, and all Thomas wanted to do was make him happy.

Walking back, he felt just as light and relaxed. He walked with a spring in his step and swinging the shopping bag by his side as he hummed some random, unspecific tune to himself. He still wanted his memories back, more than anything, but at that moment he thought that maybe not having them wasn’t as much of a curse as he thought it was. He could still be happy and have other things he wanted without his memories. He was still a shadow, half a person, but maybe that didn’t mean he couldn’t become a person even without his memories. He could have things, friends, a relationship, a life. He could forge new memories that would add to his old ones when he got them back.

He turned around a corner, and came face to face with the girl. The girl with black hair and dark eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. The girl he knew.

She was close enough that Thomas could probably reach out a hand and touch her. Half of him screamed to do just that. To grab her and hold her tight so she couldn’t run away again. To cling on for dear life like he wanted to cling of to the flashes he got in his dreams, because she was real and in front of him and could be a key to getting his memories back. And the other half of him wanted to just stay frozen. Scared that if Thomas did reach out, she wouldn’t actually be there. This could all just be a dream, she could be an illusion or hallucination. If he reached out and his hand passed through her or she vanished, if his chance for getting memories was all just a lie, and that might hurt more than not even trying.

One half had to win though, and Thomas was sick of not being able to remember who he was or anything about his life. Thomas was sick of sitting and waiting and trying to deal with frustration. Thomas didn’t want to run, Thomas wanted to stay and fight for himself.  
He dropped the shopping bag on the floor – probably smashing the eggs he had bought – and reached out quickly with both hands. He grasped the girl’s shoulders tight, scared that if he didn’t grip tight enough to would slip away through his fingers. She didn’t though. She stayed where she was, in front of Thomas and under his hands, and Thomas’ head whirled at the sudden possibilities before him. Not up until this moment had he had a better chance at potentially getting his memories back. He couldn’t stop the short laugh that burst from his lips or the tears that built in his eyes. He could be holding the key to knowing who he was in his hands and it was very overwhelming.

The girl on her part looked from the hands gripping her shoulders to Thomas’ face with a mixture of confusion and shock, which was fair enough. Thomas was acting very weird and was probably freaking her out. However, the confusion and shock wasn’t horrified or scared. In fact, it looked almost a little fond and that just reaffirmed Thomas’ surety that he did know this girl. And she knew him. Who would let a stranger grab them like this and think of it kind of fondly?

The girl raised one of her own arms in between Thomas’, jostling the grip he had on her but not making him let go. Her fingers brushed across his forehead, delicate and cool to the touch, and then they settled against his temple. Her fingertips rested just against his skin, not pressing against but applying just enough pressure that he could feel them there.

“It’s time to remember, Thomas.” She said, her voice not particularly loud but raging through Thomas’ mind.

Then his vision went blurry, his breath caught in his throat, and he remembered.

-

Thomas’s first memory is standing on the beach with his feet sinking into the sand as the waves washed over them. Then he hears Teresa’s laugh and he goes sprinting down the beach to find her and play.

There weren’t many people around their age in the village. In fact, for a long time they were the only children. So they spent a lot of time together, just the two of them, and were close from the start. They weren’t just brother and sister, they were best friends as well.

For a long time Thomas didn’t realise how different their little village was. It was years before he realised that people living for hundreds of years was not normal. That most people in the world weren’t immortal like Thomas and his village were. His parents called them special, unique, and Thomas figured they were right given this extraordinary quality they all possessed. They could die from injuries and illness, but they had greater resistance to most diseases and old age would never have an effect on them. Thomas and Teresa’s mother was 100, their father almost 300, and they looked the same age.

Though they didn’t all live forever. When members of their village had decided it was their time, they went away and chose to die. Even though the people lived for hundreds for years, it was still a sad time. Thomas remembered his first experience of someone choosing to leave the village and end their life. It was awful.

It took even longer for Thomas and Teresa to realise they were even more unique than just that. Some of the people in their village had extra talents on top of the immortality. And even though their parents didn’t, both Thomas and Teresa did. Teresa could block and unblock and control another person’s memories, but only if she knew them well and with a lot of effort. Thomas let her practice on him whenever she wanted, and because of that she knew him well enough to lock his memories many times in the years they were running from Wicked. Thomas himself could heal physical injuries quicker than usual. A simple cut could be there and gone in only a couple of hours, and a broken bone would only plague him for a few weeks.

They lived peacefully in their little village for quite a long time. Thomas and Teresa grew up but still remained the youngest people living there. Nothing much happened in the village. A few people chose to leave this life. But most things stayed completely the same.

Then he showed up.

Having visitors to their village wasn’t unusual. It was rare though. They were relatively cut off from other places, so not many people found their way to their insignificant little village. The odd person did come across them though. When they did, the village welcomed them and was hospitable, but encouraged them to move on as soon as possible as well. And all of them did.

He didn’t though. He turned up one day, a traveller, looking for a place to rest for a night or two. The village was as welcoming as ever. Letting him stay in an inn and treating him like an honoured guest. And after the two nights he stayed even longer. It was awkward, it put everyone on edge. And there was something suspicious about him. And the longer he stayed and the more suspicious he acted, the more the village was on edge. Thomas felt it clearly. He spent those days feeling uncomfortable and lost, clinging to Teresa in a way they hadn’t done since they were younger.

Then it all came to a head when someone went missing.

People didn’t go missing in their village. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone was kept informed. Hardly anyone left the village, and when they did it was with everyone knowing the full details. When anyone chose to die, it was with village-wide awareness that the decision had been made and they were losing a member of their community. But someone wasn’t in their village anymore. It was someone Thomas knew. He knew everyone. It was the woman who had plaited Teresa’s hair by the beach and given the two of them delicious snacks. It was the woman whose partner had chosen to die and left her behind because she wasn’t ready yet. Left her without any children as well, even though she wanted them. She always smiled, but she was never happy. And when he came to the village she spent a lot of time talking to him at the inn at night, where she would drink too much.

And more people went missing as well. Everyone knew it was him. No one knew what to do about it.

Thomas’ parents told him and Teresa to stay away from him. They said he was wicked. And Wicked became their name for him. He was no longer seen in the village after the third person went missing, which was relief to everyone there. But it didn’t really matter, because their people were still missing. And more were disappearing. There was a tension in the village, a heaviness in the air, and it weighed down on everyone.

It was Thomas that made the discovery. He was traipsing through the small woods that sat at the back of the village, sandwiching the building between the trees and the sand of the beach. His mother had asked him to pick some flowers – actually his mother had asked him and Teresa to pick some flowers, but she had preferred to stay dozing on the beach, and so Thomas was on his own.

It was the first time he heard the awful squelching on the flesh and the threatening clicks of the metal arms. The first time those sounds filled him with a sense of dread. Because he didn’t know what the sounds were from when he heard them coming through the trees, but they still set fear and unease deep within him. And only moments later he got his first glimpse of a Griever. Though it wasn’t the final developed Grievers he was now used to chasing him. It was more human, still human-shaped with limbs and a head, rather than the ball of flesh Grievers would become. The metal arms were protruding from the body, but they weren’t fixed properly and Thomas could see the metal and cybernetics within the body and beneath the skin making the metal a part of the Griever’s body.

He was horrified by seeing what the first woman who disappeared had become.  
He ran from her. Ran to town as fast as he could, panting and groaning and heaving with disgust. He told everyone he came across, as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t quick enough. The woman – in her mutilated state – came from the trees into the village. Followed by the rest of the people who went missing in the same mutilated state.

Thomas and Teresa were packed onto a boat by their parents and they got away just in time. They were the only ones to make it out of the village after Wicked had his new Grievers attack.

-

Thomas leaves the milk and broken eggs behind as he wordlessly followers Teresa off the street and into an alley where they will have more privacy. He does quickly bend down to pick up the chocolate though, storing in the back pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, doesn’t know if he’s going to be in a situation to give Newt the gift anytime soon, but he bought it for them and leaving it sat on the sidewalk was not acceptable in Thomas’ mind.

“We don’t have much time.” Teresa says as soon as they’re far enough away from any other people. Thomas knew that before she even said it. It’s always the case. When they have to hide, when she has to take his memories, she never comes back and returns them to him until it’s absolutely necessary to. It was weird, he noted – like he did every time after he got his memories back – how he suddenly knew everything about Teresa, knew her words before she even said them, when only an hour ago he had no idea who she was.

“Does he know we’re here?” Thomas asked.

“Yes.”

“Has he sent the Grievers?”

“All of them.”

“Fuck.” Thomas ran his fingers through his hair and found himself pacing the alley – much like he had paced the living room of Minho’s apartment yesterday. Teresa remained stood still in the middle of the alley, her eyes following Thomas’ movements but nothing else really moving at all. Whereas he easily got restless and his body hummed with frustration or anger, she found it easier to stay still and think and observe. And Teresa was observing him right at that moment.

“We have to go Thomas.” She said. And it was all because she knew him just as well as he knew her. She knew he didn’t want to go.

The last time they had hidden and she had taken his memories, he had ended up in some tiny flat with the closest thing to a friend being his landlord. It hadn’t been difficult to just drop that life when Teresa came back with Grievers hot on her tail. The one before that had been pretty much the same. The one before that though had involved a girl. A girl that Thomas had not wanted to leave behind, but was forced to when WICKED had turned up himself looking for the siblings. Now though he had the group. He had Newt. And he wasn’t prepared to just run away and leave them behind.

“I can’t.” He told her definitely. Though he wasn’t definite in his own mind. He knew what the risks staying for even a day longer posed. The longer they stayed, the more chance the Grievers had to catch up with them. And the more chance that he would be putting Newt and the group at risk. Thomas didn’t want to put them at risk, but he didn’t want to just leave without saying something. They had done so much for him, and he cared about them all so much now. Just leaving was not an option.

“It’s a risk Thomas. One we probably can’t afford.”

“I know, I know.” Thomas said, a little too loudly and a little too harshly. He felt calmer than he had in weeks since he now had his memories back. But that didn’t mean the frustration that had been plaguing him had vanished. It was still there, and now it was coupled with worry and fear as well. “I know.” He said, softer this time.

“Is this about him?”

“Them.” Thomas corrected straight away, knowing Teresa was referring to Newt. He knew she would have been watching him most of the time that he was without his memories, and that she knew him well enough to see his feelings for Newt – even if it took him so long to see them himself.

“Is it about them?” She asked again, correcting herself easily.

Thomas wanted to say no. But really he couldn’t. “Yes. But it’s not just about them.” And it wasn’t. It was about more. It was about the life Thomas had started making for himself here. It was about the job he had that he loved, the friends he had made. It was about Chuck, and Minho, and Zart and Winston and Jeff and Alby. Hell, it was even about Gally. But, at the centre of all of that, it was about Newt. It was about the way they had been there from the beginning, the way they had spearheaded the group into accepting Thomas, the way they made Thomas feel. Thomas would still be torn about leaving the life he had here if Newt wasn’t around, but he couldn’t deny that Newt made it so much worse.

Even though it had only been a few months since he woke up in that alley, even with hundreds of years of memories filling his mind now, he couldn’t imagine not being with the group. He couldn’t imagine not playing games with Chuck and hearing him complain about school and homework. He couldn’t imagine not having Minho calmly and low-key supporting him and the rest of the group. Alby’s plans and control, Zart’s crazy obsession with fashion, Jeff’s intruding medical advice, Gally’s annoying comments and snarky humour. It all added up and it all felt natural to Thomas. It felt right. Right in a way no other place he had ended up had ever really. Not one place since he started running had felt as right as it did to be with this odd group.

And at the centre of that was Newt. It was their kindness, their smile, their confidence and surety. There was a worry that a lot of that attraction for Thomas had been to do with his own sense of loss and insecurity with not knowing who he was. But now, with his memories back, it was all still there. He knew who he was now and felt like he didn’t need to lean on Newt, but he still felt the same way. He was still impressed with the confidence and moved by the thoughtfulness. The thought of that little smile still spread warmth within him and made everything seem a little better.

Only a little better though, because everything was a big mess right now.

“It’s dangerous Thomas.” Teresa’s voice wasn’t as calm now. She was good at thinking logically, at putting practicality first and emotions second when she needed to, but sometimes her emotions did push their way to the surface. She crossed the distance between them and grabbed Thomas’s arms, turning him to face her. “We’re at risk. They’re at risk. You know what will happen if he gets us Thomas. And you know what he’s prepared to do to get us. If you want to protect them – all of them – then leaving now is the best thing to do.”

Thomas knew that logically. Of course he did. But it didn’t stop him from feeling like he owed them more than just disappearing. He owed Newt more than just disappearing. “I just can’t Teresa.”

Anything Teresa was going to say in response was cut off by a whirring, clicking noise that suddenly spread into the alley. And then a few seconds later it was accompanied by a squelching sound that made Thomas’s blood freeze. Teresa’s hands dropped from his arms and they both turned to look at the end of the alley and moments later a Griever came into a view.

It was just as Thomas remembered them. Large and fat moist flesh that rolled along the ground with metallic arms that clicked as they felt across everything it passed. Seeing the griever instilled a wave of terror in Thomas that the fear from the flashes and dreams he had experienced before he got his memories back just couldn’t compare with. It was horrifying enough to imagine, even more horrifying to see in reality. And truly horrifying to know the damage one of them could do – to remember the way its fleshy body could overwhelm someone and the way it’s sharp arms could rip into someone’s flesh.

The creature stopped at the mouth of the alley, and for a moment there was a pause. A pause filled with tension as the creature remained still and Teresa and Thomas stared at it.  
Then the arms shot out straight with a loud. They slammed down to the ground and the Griever raised itself up on them and started skittling down the alley towards Thomas and Teresa. It covered half the distance to them in mere seconds and they just separated and slammed into the walls of the alley in enough time to avoid the speeding creature. Thomas groaned as he slammed against the wall, but didn’t wait to consider the pain. He turned quickly, just as the Griever was doing behind him, and joined Teresa in running back down the alley to the end.

Teresa stumbled beside him as they broke onto the street, and Thomas reached out to grab her. His hands went to her side and her jacket pulled away and his skin met something wet and sticky. It was blood. She had been caught by one of the arms of the Griever. They didn’t have time to think about it though with the creature coming back down the alley quickly behind them. So Thomas pulled her into his side and the two of them ran as quickly as they could. He could hear the clicking and banging of the griever chasing them and he knew they had to get away.

Instinct kicked in. From the weeks he had spent as a runner in the town he knew most of the back alleys now, he knew the small spaces and tiny gaps. And he let his instinct from those weeks take over lead him down some steep, tight stairs that he knew laid to a very thin alley. They stumbled down the steps, tripping and landing on their knees at the last few. The shock the went through his bones from the impact had Thomas clenching his jaw, but he pushed through it and staggered back up to his feet, dragging Teresa up with him as well. The Griever appeared at the top of the stairs and pushed its way down after them. The steepness didn’t work for it and its metal arms slipped. It squelched as it fell down the stairs, hitting the tight bottom with a massive thud. Thomas gave it one last look before he urged Teresa on and the two of them ran down the small thorough through, leaving the Griever stuck between the tight walls behind them.

“We need to get off the street.” Thomas said urgently, thinking entirely about using the advantage they had to get out of the Griever’s radar and his worry for Teresa with her injury. He pulled her in the direction of the apartment block where the group lived and she followed easily, leaning heavily against his side. Thomas could just think about how safe he felt in at that place, with the group, and how he needed to feel safe like that at this moment.

-

Teresa was Teresa was leaning heavily against Thomas when they made it to the building. She was biting her lip and gripping his arm like a vice. Thomas felt a rush of relief pass over him when they finally stumbled through the doors of the building. It was a place that screamed safety to him, even with hundreds of years of memories flooded back into his mind. He’d been all over the world, but right now no place felt safer or more like home than this ridiculous run-down building and the group that lived in it.

They stumbled and dragged their way up the stairs. There was a lift in the building, but it was temperamental and made way too much creaking as it moved to seem safe. Additionally, with the Griever’s appearance and the danger it brought still pressing against their backs, being in a confined space with nowhere to run made a shiver run down Thomas’ spine. And he knew Teresa felt the same.

Without even thinking about it, he directed them off the stairs only half way up. Onto the floor Newt and Alby’s flat was one rather than the floor Minho’s flat was. He could hear the voices coming from the flat. The walls in the building were thin and as usual nearly everyone in their group were gathered in the one flat. As they stumbled closer, the mass chatter became more defined and Thomas could hear raised voices. Raised voices that shouted his name as he readjusted Teresa against his side and reached to open the door.

“Thomas just abandoned you Newt.” It sounded like Alby. The voice was controlled and even.  
“I always knew there was something off with him.” Definitely Gally.

“He didn’t abandon me. Something probably came up. Where the hell would he go? What could he probably have achieved by just taking off?” Newt sounded upset. And it made Thomas grip the handle tight because he realised he had done that.

“But he couldn’t call or text or let you know that something had come up? Let you know that he wasn’t just flaking on you guys talking.” Another voice, slightly muffled, harder to place. Winston probably, by the hint of an accent Thomas could just make out.

Teresa shifted against him, and Thomas suddenly remembered what was happening. He pulled down the handle and threw the door opening. Nobody in the group knocks to enter Alby and Newt’s apartment.

There was a moment that felt like a lifetime. When everybody gathered the cluttered living room turned to stare at Thomas. Thomas who had come barging into the apartment with a random girl hanging off him and blood smeared across the front of his top.

Then everyone moved and yelled at once. Alby reached them first – as usual always at the front of the group and taking charge – and he easily took Teresa’s weight so she was leaning against him rather than Thomas. It was another clash of his newly returned memories of the past and the last few weeks he had spent with the group. Before now he wouldn’t have trusted anyone to take Teresa when she was injured and the two of them were in danger. He knew that now. But he had no worry about Alby taking Teresa. He completely trusted him to keep her safe, to look after her, in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since they left their village.

And it was a good thing that Alby had taken Teresa and Thomas trusted him to do so, because the second her weight had safely passed between them and he knew she was safe, the situation and the adrenaline and the trauma caught up with Thomas. His whole body began to shake and his vision went blurry for a second. He found himself leaning heavily to the right, and suddenly there was a strong body there supporting him. Minho wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him move into the room after Alby and Teresa.

Most of the group took a step back or moved to help Alby get Teresa onto the sofa, Clint checking her wound immediately while Jeff left the flat – presumably to get his medical supplies. But Newt met Thomas and Minho half way. Their face was filled with worry and their hand reached out to grab Thomas’s shirt, right where Teresa’s blood was staining it. Thomas felt surer with newt there, with Newt close, and he was able to stumble the last few steps to fall down on the stool closest to the sofa with only minimal support.

Newt crouched down in front of him. Their brow was furrowed and their lips turned down and Thomas reached out and grabbed their hand. Partly to tell them they didn’t have to worry so much, because Thomas didn’t want them to worry, and partly because the physical contact was something to cling to. It was a reminder that he was somewhere safe now. Newt squeezed his hand easily and Thomas felt a little surer and steadier. But it wasn’t enough to fully help the fear and panic and overwhelming mess that was raging through his mind.

He had just got his memories back and was still dealing with making sense of that and now he was coming down from the adrenaline rush and the trauma of what had happened and he felt awful.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” Newt said. Thomas thought about answering, he nearly did, but then Teresa moaned and Thomas’ attention went straight to her. Lint had her top up and was looking at the cut in her side and her eyes were fluttering as he dropped in and out of consciousness. Thomas wanted to reach out to her and be by her side, to know that she was going to be okay, but he didn’t want to get in the way. Then there was a hand on his face, pulling him back to look at Newt.

“Hey. Are you hurt?” Newt asked, and Thomas shook his head in answer this time. “Okay, good. What happened Thomas? Who is she?” The rest of the group’s attention turned from Teresa to him then, a few moving ever so slightly closer to where he was slumped in the chair.

“I remember.” He said, and his voice came out hoarse and quiet. But everybody in the room heard it. Newt’s face went lax with surprise, the small chatter in other corners of the room went quiet, Alby and Clint looked up from Teresa to turn to Thomas. “I remember everything.”

He stood up then, suddenly overwhelmed by the eyes trained on him and the cluttered room he was in. Newt backed away to give him room and Thomas ran a hand through his hair as walked past the most cluttered chairs and stools to a part of the room with a bit more space. Most of the group watched him go, but Minho followed slowly, his eyes questioning and his body relaxed and opening. Thomas knew that was his way of showing his support, asking if Thomas was okay.

Jeff came back into the flat then, out of breath and with his messenger bag full of supplies gripped tightly in his hands. He spared Thomas one look of concern before rushing past him and Minho and everyone else and joining Clint by Teresa’s side. Thomas followed him without really thinking about it. He ended up the other end of the sofa and Minho came up behind him. His roommate didn’t touch him, but he stood close enough that Thomas knew he was there and he appreciated the silent support.

“Is she okay?” He asked.

Clint looked up to him as Jeff took over seeing to Teresa’s wound. “The wound isn’t too deep but it’s bleeding quite a bit. We need to get it covered.” Thomas nodded, in agreement and to give them permission to do what they needed. He trusted Jeff and Clint completely. He trusted them to look after Teresa.

“I’m guessing no hospital for her either?” Alby asked, and Thomas looked to see he had a slight smirk on his face. He shook his head and Alby nodded. And then Thomas knew that the group trusted him just as much as he trusted them. Alby didn’t push back about no hospital like he had questioned when Thomas had first been found, the group wasn’t pushing him even though he still hadn’t really explained anything.

There was a scoff from near the kitchen though, and Thomas didn’t need to look to know it was Gally.

“Who is she?” Newt asked, pulling Thomas’ attention away from Teresa again. The rest of the group looked nervous and Minho shifted behind Thomas. They were unsure about asking, about probing, but Newt wasn’t. Thomas didn’t mind. He didn’t who how he would react if any of the others had asked, but he didn’t mind newt asking.

“Teresa. She’s my sister.” Newt’s mouth opened into an ‘o’ of surprise and there was a whisper that seemed to spread through the group standing around them.

Thomas took a deep breath and then told them everything else. He told them how he had bumped into Teresa on the street and that he had gotten his memories back then. He told them that he wasn’t the age they probably thought he was. He told them where he came from, about the village he and Teresa grew up in, about the man that came and killed everyone. He didn’t even consider hiding any of it, about bending the truth. He trusted the group so completely He didn’t even consider them not believing he was immortal, not believing the extra abilities he and Teresa had, not believing there was a man after them turning people into monsters.

And when he was finished he sat down heavily onto a chair behind him. Sharing everything he had just learned with these people that he felt so safe with and he was so close to left his feeling drained. A weight feel on his shoulder – Minho’s hand – and he could almost feel the weight of the rest of the groups’ eyes on him. He vaguely realised how ridiculous this could all sound, but when Newt moved closer to him and took a hold of his hand, he saw no disbelief in their face.

A heavy silence settled in the room. No one quite knew what to say – Thomas definitely didn’t after everything else he had just said – and there was a tense atmosphere from the revelation and the sense of danger it brought with it.

“But why did he do that?” Zart asked from where she was stood just a little away from Thomas, looking lost and worried. An expression that was mirrored by everyone else in the group – along with fear and confusion and a whole manner of things. But there was no disbelief. There was no amusement. Not one of them thought this was a joke or didn’t believe him. Even Gally was taking it in stride and believing it, his eyes wild and his jaw loose at the back of the group.

“Because he wants to live forever.” Teresa’s voice split through the tension in the room, coming breathless and pained and obviously taking a lot of effort.

Thomas was at her side in an instant, looking into her eyes for assurance that she was okay. She looked straight at him, giving him that assurance, even with everything else happening around them. She shifted and struggled to push herself up into a sitting position. She bared her teeth through the pain and glared at Clint and Alby as they moved to help. She let Thomas offer an arm for support though. It had been just them two really for so long, and Thomas was the sibling who trusted new people easier.

“That’s why he did it.” She bit out, leaning heavily against Thomas and flinching from every movement as it inevitably shot pain up her side from the wound. “He somehow found out what we were, and he wanted it for himself. So he decided he would take it. He experimented on them, and then when he was done with them turned them into those monsters. But it was never enough. He still hasn’t fully worked out how to give himself immortality. He’s extended his life exponentially, but he’s still dying, his boys is still decaying before him as he works to stop it. He needs something more.”

“He needs me.” Thomas finished.

They had been confused at first. Confused why this wicked man had turned up in their village and gone after them. But they had eventually managed to work it out as they fled across the world from him and his Grievers. As the Grievers got more complex it was clear he was experimenting and he knew what he was doing with melding biology and metal. As science advanced, so did the Grievers. And on the occasions that Wicked came after Thomas and Teresa himself rather than sending the Grievers, it was clear he was ill, he was hurting. He was dying. And it was clear from how he went after them, from what he said to them, that he thought they were the answer to letting him heal, to letting him live forever.

“That’s why I didn’t remember.” Thomas carried on, knowing he had to explain about his amnesia as well. He had to explain about the part where the group came in because they deserved to know that more than anything. They took a risk helping him, they let him into their lives. Thomas was so grateful for that and this was the least he could do to begin to make up for that. “Teresa took my memoires so I could be hidden since it’s me he’s really after more than anything.”

Teresa let out a groan of pain then, and flinched into Thomas’ side. He turned so she was more comfortable against him and Jeff leant forward to checker the wound he had just covered. Thomas could see the scarlet red blood already tainting the white bandage against Teresa’s skin and it made him feel sick. Jeff redid the bandage and the rest of the group noticed the sudden drop in tensions. Most of them sat down on the array of odd furniture stacked in the room, others headed into the kitchen or off to the bathroom. Alby ducked into his room. Newt perched on arm of the sofa behind Thomas and placed a hand delicately on his shoulder. They seemed nervous, unsure, and even through everything else going on Thomas didn’t want that. It felt natural to lean into the hand and lean back into the body behind him.

Newt didn’t seem hesitant after that. Their hand gripped Thomas’ shoulder, a comforting squeeze insistent enough to make itself known but not too hard. Then it brushed up his neck and settled in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Teresa feel unconscious again against his side as Jeff finished re-bandaging the wound. Thomas knew there was still more to talk about with the group and Teresa needed her rest, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away or leave her side yet. Not when she was injured and his regained memories were still fresh and clawing at his subconscious.

“What happens now then?” Alby asked when he came back out of his room, carrying some blankets. He passed one to Jeff and Thomas was glad to help arrange it over Teresa. She curled further into him and Thomas leant back even further so she could comfortably lay out on him without aggravating her wound again.

“We wait for Teresa to heal.” Thomas said and a few people nodded along. They already got it, they already understood. “And then me and Teresa get out of here.”

Newt sucked in a harsh breath behind him and their hand stilled and everyone in the group looked startled and mad. Minho stepped close to the sofa, his arms falling to his sides from where they had been crossed over his chest and his hands curled into fists.

“What?” He barked out.

Thomas didn’t want to make them all mad. And he especially didn’t want to see Minho he had ever did. But he had to tell them the truth and what was going to happen once Teresa was okay. There was danger around now. Danger that the group shouldn’t have to face.  
“There’s Grievers here now. That means that Wicked either knows we’re here, or he will know very soon.” Thomas explained, looking around the room but not really looking at anyone. He couldn’t make himself look anyone in the eye. He felt almost ashamed at knowing he was going to run away from the group, but he knew he had to leave to keep them safe. “He will come after us, and that’s going to be dangerous.”

“I think we know that.” Jeff said with a pointed look to the medical supplies he still had out of his bag.

“No you don’t.” Thomas protested, being careful of Teresa but sitting forward slightly. He needed to make the group get what he was saying. He needed to make them understand the danger. And he needed to pull away from Newt a bit. Because knowing they were there just behind him made Thomas want to sink into their embrace and pretend this all wasn’t happening. He was entirely grateful he couldn’t see them right now.

“Yes we do.” Clint added, with more bite than Jeff had in his voice. Thomas sighed and shook his head. They didn’t get it. How couldn’t they see how much danger Thomas and Teresa being here was putting them in? This was life or death.

“Hey.” Newt suddenly said and their hand slipped down to his cheek to force Thomas’ head round. Newt leaned forward themselves so they could actually look at each other. Their eyes were intense and bore straight into Thomas. This was why he didn’t want to look at them. “We found you broken and bloody in the middle of alley way with no memories. And then you come back after disappearing all day with this girl seriously bleeding and with this story. We know this is dangerous.

“But did you really think you could just run away from here, from us, after these past few months. Did you really think after we took you in, after we connected with you, that we’d just put our hands up and be done with you just because things get a little bit dangerous? You don’t just get to run away and leave us all here under the impression that you’re protecting us. Not after everything that’s happened.”

Thomas neck was aching a little from the way it was push by Newt, and pushing against their hand made that worse, but he did it anyway. The sharp ache helped him focus and it was necessary if he wanted to look at anyone else in the room. He pushed against the hand and glanced around the room to see everyone nodding. Even Gally. And that kind of hurt much more than the ache in his neck.

He and Teresa had spent years and years running. There was a reason they tried not to get attached, a reason they never found a home. And Teresa seemed good at it, but Thomas’ wasn’t. There had been things he had gotten attached to, places that had started to feel like home, people he hadn’t wanted to leave behind. But he had. Every time. Because when Wicked caught up with them, Teresa and Thomas ran. It was all they had done since they had first ran from their village. It was instinct at this point. And it hurt every time Thomas had to leave something behind.

But even now with his memories back now of the other places and people he had left behind, Thomas felt like there was something more in the connections he had built here. His connection to the city he got to explore and learn as he ran through it for work, his connection to this wonderful group of people who had done so much to help him, his connection to Newt who had come to mean so much to Thomas in such a short amount of time. Knowing that he was going to be leaving all of that behind left him reeling and feeling pain in every part of his soul. But he didn’t even consider not leaving. He had begged Teresa to wait so he could say goodbye, and even though her being injured killed him, he couldn’t help but be grateful that he had time to say goodbye.

“We have to go.” He said quietly, knowing everyone in the room was listening and would hear. Newt’s hand finally let up with the pressure and Thomas let his face turn back to a comfortable position for his neck. But Newt’s hand didn’t wander far, it stayed connected to Thomas by sitting lightly against his neck.

“But why?” Minho asked, sounding impatient. He sat down heavily on one of the stools, but only on the edge. “Why do you have to run? Why not stay, make a stand, and fight back? Then it’d be dealt with and you can live your lives”

Thomas felt like punching himself in the face. They weren’t getting. How could they not get it? They listened to his story, they believed his story. How could they not see how dangerous it is, how much Thomas and Teresa had been through running away from Wicked so far. But he couldn’t find a way to vocalise these thoughts. The words got stuck in his throat and created a lump and he felt like he was choking on them. He didn’t want to disappoint the people in this room. But he knew he was going to when he and Teresa left.

Teresa shifted against him and she answered where he couldn’t. Her voice was scarily weak, but it came out with bite and defensive. “Because he’s dangerous. He killed every single person we knew and cared him and he’d do the same again and again. Fighting him once would give us a chance to get rid of him, but he took everyone in our village by himself, and now he has an army behind him as well. What chance would we have? And we can’t lose a fight with him, because losing a fight with him means we die, and he gets Thomas and gets true immortality.”

Teresa’s breathing was laboured and her eyes almost fluttered shut as soon as she had stopped talking. She was weak from her injury and how she kept exerting herself in her conscious moments and it was clearly taxing. And everyone seemed to notice.

“We should move her to my room. She can get proper rest in there.” Newt said and that seemed to be the cue for everyone to disperse. No one left happy and content like they usually did from their group meetings. People were distracted and confused and worried. And Thomas knew they weren’t done yet.

Thomas, Clint and Alby half carried, half supported Teresa to Newt’s room, laying her down carefully on to the bed. Newt led them, unable to help carry or support her because of his leg, but opening doors and pulling the sheets back. Teresa relaxed into the mattress and seemed to settle. Clint checked over her wound once more before saying goodbye and heading back to his own flat like the others had. Minho was still hanging around in the living room when they went back out, and he and Alby headed into the kitchen whispering to each other.

That left Newt and Thomas in the living room alone. Newt smiled at him, and it was that smile. The smile that had always made Thomas feel better, had always lifted the stress and the pressure and made things seem a little brighter. And it worked again. Even with everything happening, even with Wicked breathing down their necks and Teresa injured and Thomas knowing he’d be leaving Newt and the group and this city behind, it still worked. It didn’t work as well. But it did work a bit.

So Thomas did the only thing that made sense in his mind then. He kissed them.

He framed Newt’s face with his hands and kept the kiss restrained but intense. Newt hands wrapped around his waist and all Thomas wanted to do was collapse into their arms again. And he very nearly did. Nearly let it all go. But Newt pulled away from it and stopped it. Their face was serious and concern was pulling at their brow.

“I’m sorry.” Thomas said before Newt had a chance to speak. “Sorry for just disappearing today after what happened. I need you to know it had nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” Newt said. “I was worried earlier, but I understand.”

Thomas let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realised how much that had been weighing on his chest. Through all the mess of the day, knowing that he could have hurt Newt was building at the back of his mind even though he had focused on everything else. But now he had dealt with all of that that he could at the moment, this worry had taken hold. And to have it soothed so easily and quickly was nice. He didn’t want things to end horribly with Newt. It was inevitable that it would be bad because they were going to end, but he wanted to do all he could to lessen that.

“You seem tired.” Newt said softly, rubbing under Thomas’ eye with their thumb. Thomas huffed out a laugh and nodded. He wasn’t tired, he was exhausted. He was done-in and fed-up and finished with this day. “Maybe you should consider going to bed.”

“Yeah.” Thomas agreed. “I think I’m going to head up to my own flat and get some sleep.” He needed to get some space. And he had no worried about going to a different floor of this building and leaving Teresa when she was injured. This apartment was the hub. It was safe.

“Huh.” Newt said almost involuntarily and they had an odd little smirk on their face that it pulled Thomas sup short for a moment.

“What?”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you refer to Minho’s place as yours as well.” Thomas thought about it, and he supposed Newt was right. Until now there was something in his mind stopping him from seeing it fully as home, as his. But now he did. It could be getting his memories back, it could just be he’d lived there long enough, it could be anything. But it did feel like home. This city felt like home, and his apartment that he shared with Minho in this building felt like home.

Thomas could only smile and bury his face in Newt’s neck. Newt’s arms wrapped around him and after the day he had, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders – even though it would only be temporary. And Thomas knew that one of the reasons why the flat upstairs finally felt like home – why this city finally felt fully like home – was because he finally had this with Newt. They had finally confessed their feelings and reached somewhere together.  
Newt laughed into his ear and it was still a little strained, but it was almost musical and light enough to lift Thomas and the tension still hanging in the air. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” They said and nudged Thomas towards the door.

Thomas went where he was nudged and linked his fingers with Newt’s as they headed upstairs, waving to Alby and Minho as they passed the kitchen. Going to bed with Newt this time was completely different from last night. It wasn’t sexual or as intense, but it was just as intimate and it meant just as much to Thomas as they curled up together and fell asleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
